


Finding You Again

by MyBlueBooks



Series: Jane and Sherlock Holmes [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Divorce, Domestic Violence, Drugs, F/M, Falling In Love, Falling Out of Love, Forced Pregnancy, Miscarriage, Parentlock, Sexual Abuse, Sexual Content, Unplanned Pregnancy, Unrequited Love, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2013-12-28
Packaged: 2018-01-05 18:26:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 40
Words: 154,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1097218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyBlueBooks/pseuds/MyBlueBooks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to 'Us Against the World'. Sherlock Holmes has committed suicide leaving Jane and their children alone. This is the tale of two people fighting one same war but on two different fronts: Jane is picking up the pieces and trying to rebuild her life. Sherlock is trying to protect his family knowing he can't be with them anymore. Sort of AU. Fem!John Post Reichenbach.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. No Tears

**Author's Note:**

> Not an English speaker. Apologies in advance for my mistakes.

_People that are meant to be together always find each other in the end._

"I wanna stay 'ere," whispered Hamish softly, as his baby brother had just fallen asleep in his mother's arms. "With Nan Hudson."

Jane got to her feet and placed baby Sherlock on the small cot in the living room. "I don't know, Hamish. I'll think about it."

A month after Sherlock was born, Jane started looking for new houses and flats. The money was not a problem, however, Jane was not looking for any expensive, posh place to live in but all the opposite in fact; the only place Jane was looking for was a place good enough for her children to live in where they could grow up being happy.

Elizabeth and Richard tried to convince Jane to move in with them as their house was far too big for themselves and they had enough rooms and space for her and the children. Her parents-in-law assured her they would hire all the nannies and maids that could be needed to make things easier for her. Jane thanked them for their offer but she rejected it from the beginning. Jane knew Sherlock's parents wanted the best for her, the woman Sherlock had loved and for their children, Sherlock's children who were therefore their grandchildren, but Jane was convinced she was the only one who would always give Hamish and baby Sherlock everything they needed - they didn't need big rooms, nannies or maids. They only needed her.

Mrs Hudson tried to convince Jane as well but not because she wanted Jane to live there for the rent but because she loved her as if she had always been her daughter and Hamish and baby Sherlock were like her grandchildren. Mrs Hudson was not only very fond of Jane but also she was fond of Hamish and Sherlock. The landlady loved to look after the children when Jane needed to go to the shops, run some errands and go to uni. Hamish was a very calm, peaceful boy and baby Sherlock barely cried unless he was hungry or when his nappy needed to be changed. He was a very lovely baby.

"But I like my room..."

Jane smiled fondly to her eldest son. "You'll have your own room if we move."

Hamish stood on tip toes close to baby Sherlock's cot. "And Lock?"

Hamish was the one who gave baby Sherlock his first nickname: 'Lock'. Everyone called little Sherlock 'Baby Sherlock', 'Lock' and sometimes 'Locky'. Mycroft once said those were the same nicknames Sherlock had been given when he was just a little child.

"Lock will sleep in my room."

"Why?"

Jane placed her books on the table, getting ready to revise for the exams she had missed at uni because of her pregnancy and because of the whole Moriarty episode. "Because he's still very little."

"When Lock talk?" asked Hamish pouting.

"In a few months, I hope."

"Mummy?"

"Hmm?" Jane didn't looked at his son and continued reading.

Hamish got close to his mummy and rested his head on her shoulder. "I miss daddy."

Jane felt her heart breaking - again. But she didn't feel like crying anymore. Jane knew she hadn't got over Sherlock's death, his absence, his cold, empty side of the bed, the silences left. But somehow, now every time Hamish mentioned his daddy Sherlock, every time someone mentioned his name or every time Jane read something about him on the news or on the papers - which was strange now after so long - Jane felt she didn't have more tears to cry anymore.

Jane hugged her eldest son tightly. "I miss him too... Why don't you go to your room and play with the new toys your grandparents gave you for your birthday?"

"Okay!"

"But don't make too much noise! Remember Lock's sleeping."

Jane thought about it the whole afternoon. Baker Street had Sherlock everywhere she looked at, but even when she wanted to move out, she knew she couldn't. 221 B had been their first home, the place Sherlock had chosen to be _their_ home, where they wanted to raise Hamish and then baby Sherlock. Within the walls of that flat they had suffered, they had cried, they had made promises and they had loved each other. Within the walls of that flat they had dreamt of a life together, of more children, of birthday parties and lullabies, nappies and bottles and growing old together.

It hurt, but Jane knew it was for the best to stay there and raise her children in Baker Street, in the place their father, Sherlock, her husband, had loved so much.

Jane looked at Lock's peacefully form sleeping on a small, modest cot next to her in the sitting room and bit her lip. Her baby looked one hundred percent like Sherlock; he had dark, curly hair, pale skin, gray eyes and full pink lips and a perfect nose. God, Lock even had Sherlock's ears. What hurt Jane was not seeing her baby looking like a carbon copy of her deceased husband.

What hurt Jane the most was knowing her baby would never meet his father - that Sherlock had never got to meet their baby.

* * *

Baby Sherlock's first months had been peaceful, quiet, without much to say. Every moth, Jane took Sherlock and Hamish to the paediatrician to make herself sure her children were healthy and during those months they readjusted into a new routine: now Hamish attended to nursery school in the mornings and some days Mrs Hudson or Elizabeth would look after Sherlock so Jane could go to uni. Jane was now more than ever very focused on her studies because she wanted to become a doctor to help people and make her children feel proud of her.

In the afternoons, while feeding Sherlock or just holding him in her arms, Jane studied and read and Hamish played with his toys. Studying was not easy with two children - one small baby and a toddler, but Jane managed. Surprisingly enough Hamish and Sherlock were very quiet children. They were a blessing for their mother.

However, time passed by and Sherlock turned six months old when Hamish started feeling jealous. It had not happened until that moment and Jane had to repress a smile or a giggle when Hamish threw himself into the sofa, turned to face away and sulked just like his daddy Sherlock used to do. Suddenly, Hamish got jealous if Jane kissed Sherlock, whenever his grandparents or Mycroft visited them and all their attention was focused on Sherlock instead of him and even if Jane decided Sherlock had to get a bath first before him.

It was a rainy afternoon. Baby Sherlock was crawling on the floor in the living room while Hamish was sitting on Sherlock's armchair watching telly and Jane was preparing milk for her eldest child and tea for her in the kitchen. Sherlock found Hamish's favourite teddy bear on the floor and clung to it. Hamish did not notice this until Jane called him to sit down to have his milk and biscuits when he saw his little brother holding his stuffed bear - the very same one his daddy Sherlock had got for him when Jane was pregnant and expecting him.

"Mummy... it's my teddy bear!"

Jane sighed and glanced at baby Sherlock who was sitting over a cushion on the floor, holding Hamish's favourite teddy bear - "Hamish, Lock just want to play with it for a few minutes..."

"No!"

Hamish got to his feet and took the stuffed bear off Sherlock's little hands, sharply and this made Sherlock cry. Jane knelt to take her baby into her arms and cuddled him trying to make him stop crying. "Hamish, go and drink your milk."

"I don't wanna milk!"

"Sit and drink your milk," said Jane, feeling a bit tired as baby Sherlock wouldn't stop crying. "Let your brother play with the bear just for a few minutes, please?"

"It's mine!" screamed Hamish and ran to his room upstairs.

Baby Sherlock, still crying, curled his little fingers around Jane's shirt and she knew he was hungry. She undid the first buttons of her shirt and started to feed him. She looked at Hamish's empty chair and at his forgotten mug on the table and shook her head. She was very tired. Studying and raising two children together was not easy. They were good children and Jane didn't need to work to give her children a safe life, and she lived in a good place, but there were days in which Jane felt alone and sometimes she felt like running away or jumping off some rooftop, just like Sherlock had done. Jane was tired and she needed Sherlock.

"Hamish loves you, Lock," whispered Jane, running her fingers over her baby's dark, wild curls. "He's just a bit jealous."

Baby Sherlock had the most beautiful curls Jane had ever seen. His hair was dark, very dark and curly. No matter how hard Jane tried to comb it, his hair was very soft and wild - just like Sherlock's. Baby Sherlock had gray eyes too, and sometimes they changed their colour and they were blue, like Jane's. His skin was very pale and sometimes Jane thought he was ill, but many doctors assured her baby was very healthy. He had round cheeks and full pink lips, like his father's. Even his nose was like Sherlock's.

Baby Sherlock was the carbon copy of his father.

Jane was placing baby Sherlock on his cot in her room when Hamish silently made his way into the room and stood close to his mummy. He placed the teddy bear next to Sherlock's form.

"I can get him a new teddy bear," said Jane.

Hamish shook his head. "I wanna 'Lock to keep it. 'Cos daddy giv' it to me."

For the first time in months, Jane cried thinking about Sherlock. And about how alone she felt and how much she needed him.

"Don't be jealous, Hamish. I love you both."

"But... you like Lock best."

Jane frowned. "No, that's not true. I love you equally."

"No! You-you-you're with him... all the time!"

"But that's because he's very little, Hamish. Sherlock can't drink his milk, go to the loo or put his clothes on alone like you do," explained Jane. "You were very little like him too. And I was with you just as much as I'm with him now."

Hamish cried in his mother's arms for long minutes until Jane managed to calm him down. "Don't be jealous, Hamish. You and Sherlock are my two babies and I love you equally. I don't love him more than I love you," whispered Jane.

"You sure?"

"Yes," Jane smiled. "And if daddy were here he would want you and Sherlock to love each other. You're brothers and brothers love and look after each other. Remember you're the big brother here and you'll have to protect Sherlock."

Her own words reminded Jane Mycroft was the big brother and he had to protect Sherlock.

But he didn't.

Hamish looked at his mummy. "I love Lock."

"I'm sure he loves you too."

"You sure?"

"Of course," Jane assured her eldest son.

The following day, Hamish spent the whole afternoon playing with baby Sherlock and both shared their favourite teddy bear. And Jane knew she had nothing to be worried about.

* * *

Everyone was looking at the small baby crawling over the expensive, soft carpet of his grandparent's living room. Elizabeth was already holding a camera and Richard was happily smiling. Mycroft had Hamish sitting on his lap while Jane was looking proudly at her small son who was now trying to get to his feet. Baby Sherlock was eight months old and he was trying to get to his feet for the first time.

But Locky, as his grandparents liked to call him, fell to the floor on his bum. Elizabeth, who was very close to him, tried to take the baby in her arms before he could cry, but Jane gestured her not to do it. Everyone looked how baby Sherlock pouted and little tears started to fill his grayish eyes, but Locky didn't cry. He crawled back to his mummy's legs repressing his tears.

"Aww," Elizabeth smiled fondly.

Jane cuddled baby Sherlock and kissed the top of his wild, dark curls. "He barely cries. And he's pride; he won't let me help him."

"My, that child is the carbon copy of his father," said Mycroft.

Richard nodded. "But he's too little..."

"Locky's very brave," explained Jane.

Jane visited her in-laws every Sunday religiously. Every Sunday morning Mycroft would send a black car to take Jane and the children to the Holmes' to have breakfast, then lunch and tea - basically spend the whole day with them. Richard and Elizabeth loved to spend almost the whole day with Hamish and baby Sherlock. They had already prepared a special room for them with a bed and a cot and toys - all of them had belonged to Sherlock.

As it was Mycroft's free day (or at least he convinced everyone of it) he spent most of the day with Hamish. Mycroft loved both of his nephews, but Hamish occupied a special place within his heart but that was because Sherlock was still very little. Mycroft read Hamish stories and sometimes he would tell him stories about his daddy Sherlock when he was a child.

"And one day, your father tried to catch a butterfly on the garden so he climbed that tree close to mummy's roses," said Mycroft, pointing at the tree on the garden. "He was very close, but the butterfly flown away and he fell over mummy's roses."

Hamish looked amazed. "And what happ'ned?"

Elizabeth joined his son and his eldest grandchild. "He got his hands hurt trying to fix them."

"You angry with daddy?"

"Yes. But I was not angry because he ruined my roses but because he didn't tell me he got hurt," explained Elizabeth.

Hamish loved to hear stories about his daddy and he said he was going to tell them to baby Sherlock too.

Baby Sherlock liked to be in everyone's arms but Mycroft's. As soon as Mycroft's safe hands tried to held Sherlock, the baby would either cry or stir. Certainly, baby Sherlock, or Locky, as his grandparents liked to call him, didn't like Mycroft at all.

"Buuuaaahhhh!"

Mycroft handed him back to Jane. "He doesn't like me."

Jane giggled. "Sherlock would be so pleased."

Mycroft couldn't help but smile, genuinely smile.

* * *

It was still very early when Hamish woke up after having another bad dream. In those dreams, he always found himself alone in a dark room in where the screamed for help. Hamish had told his mother about them, about those dreams in which he was lost, alone and neither she or his daddy were there.

Forgetting all about his dream, Hamish found his slippers and took his teddy bear with him and went downstairs to the living room. The sun was shinning through the windows when Hamish realised it was still early and that his mother wouldn't be up until she had to go to uni or unless Sherlock cried.

On tip toes, Hamish made his way into his mother's room. Jane was still sleeping when Hamish got close to the cot next to the bed. Baby Sherlock was wide awake and sucking his thumb. When Sherlock looked at his older brother, he extended his arms. Being very careful and using all his strength, Hamish lifted Sherlock and took him to the living room. Once in the living room, Hamish placed his baby brother Sherlock on a cushion on the floor and handed him his teddy bear. He sat across Sherlock on the floor. "Locky... I miss daddy," said Hamish.

The toddler looked how Sherlock bent his head to one side, making his dark curls bounce to one side. "Ddddaaa."

Hamish pressed a hand to his hearing aid. "You talk?"

"Ddddaaa," repeated baby Sherlock.

"Mummy says you can't talk yet."

Sherlock crawled off the cushion until he was sitting just inches from his big brother.

"Daddy's hair was dark too," Hamish caressed Sherlock's dark curls, softly. "Daddy's hair was funny."

In her room, Jane opened her eyes and glanced at the watch on the bedside table; it was six in the morning. She knew it was too early, but she could do with a shower before Sherlock and Hamish woke up. Jane sat on the edge of the bed and looked for her slippers. She wrapped herself with Sherlock's blue gown and yawned.

Jane's eyes were as wide as saucers when she looked into the cot and found it empty. She immediately thought of the worst; that maybe Sherlock had crawled off the cot, which was impossible, but it was the only thing she could think of until she heard some noises coming from the living room. Jane's heart was pounding hard within her chest; she was fearing the worst, that maybe someone had broke into the flat and that maybe that someone had taken her children when she went to the kitchen and stopped at the doorway, where she found Hamish holding Sherlock's violin and showing baby Sherlock how their daddy used to play.

"And daddy did this," said Hamish, moving the bow delicately over the strings of the violin but not producing any sound. Lock was looking at his big brother with his big, curious gray eyes. "And daddy liked esperimens too."

Jane wanted to giggle at Hamish's trying to say 'experiment'. His speech had improved lots but he still had problems to pronounce some words.

Hamish placed the violin very carefully on its case and sat next to baby Sherlock, placing an arm around his little shoulders, making himself sure his little brother was safe. "Daddy said I 'ave to protect you."

Jane felt some tears falling down her eyes.

"Look, daddy!" said Hamish pointing at a picture of Sherlock, unaware her mother was watching him and Lock. The baby looked at it and then at his brother. "He was very very tall."

"Ddddaa..."

"'Daddy', Locky. Say 'daddy'."

Baby Sherlock pressed his lips together. "Ddddaaa..."

"I miss daddy..." whispered Hamish and kissed baby Sherlock's cheek. "Mummy says he's an Angel!" Baby Sherlock clapped his hands together and giggled. "Angels have wings! And daddy has two wings and he fly on the sky and he's lookin' us!"

Jane wiped the tears off her face and stepped into the room.

"Hey," said she, with a smile.

Hamish looked up at his mummy and smiled too. "Mummy!"

"Couldn't sleep?"

"Bad dream, mummy,"said Hamish and Jane rubbed his back reassuringly. "Locky was awake too."

Jane smiled and sat across her children on the floor. "What were you doing here?"

"I was tellin' Locky 'bout daddy," explained Hamish. "And he can talk!"

"Can he?"

"Yes! Look," Hamish turned to Sherlock. "Locky, say 'daddy'"

Baby Sherlock pressed his lips together. "Ddddaaa!"

"No, Locky. It's 'daddy'!"

"Ddddddddaaaaa!" repeated Sherlock.

Hamish looked disappointed. "I wanna Locky to talk!"

Jane smiled. "He'll speak soon."

"I wanna tell Locky all 'bout daddy too."

"You can tell him," Jane got to her feet and took Sherlock in her arms. "I'm sure Locky will love to hear everything about daddy." Hamish nodded. "Now you and Locky will have a bath and then I'll make pancakes for breakfast!"

Jane looked at her children happily playing together that morning and realised she felt alone, but she certainly wasn't. Hamish and Sherlock were her children and the two little things Sherlock had left.

And the two little things Jane loved with all her heart.


	2. You'd be so Proud of Them

_"I wish you were here to see our children growing up. You would be so proud of them."_

It was so hard to say 'No' to Sherlock when he pouted and when little tears were already filling his eyes, and they were dangerously threatening to go out.

"Locky, no."

Baby Sherlock frowned - he actually _frowned_ and small tears rolled down his chubby, pink tainted cheeks as Jane put him in his cot so he was lying on his back. Right next to him was his and Hamish's favourite teddy bear.

"Mmppphhh...," Sherlock moved his limbs erratically as he tried to extend his arms as much as he could as if by doing so Jane would change her mind and actually made him sleep next to her on her bed as she had been doing a few times by now.

Jane shook her head as she straightened her bra and her nightdress. "Please, baby. I need to sleep. I've got a very important exam tomorrow... "

"Buuuaaahhhhh!"

Jane pinched the bridge of her nose and shut her eyes tight as she heard her baby crying. She took Sherlock in her arms and cuddled him. She sat on her bed on her side of the bed and moved her books and notes to the opposite side. Jane was very tired indeed, she had been revising all day long while entertaining Hamish with some rented dvd's and Sherlock with some toys.

Hamish had gone straight to bed after dinner. But Sherlock...

Sherlock was the exception.

Sherlock was a very energetic, happy, lively and active little baby. He woke up very early in the morning and waited until Jane's alarm went off to either cry or sometimes just 'talk' using his baby speech mumbling incoherent things to make himself noticeable so his mummy would take him in her arms, off his cot and feed him. A little afterwards, when baby Sherlock was already cleaned, fed and dressed, and when Hamish had already have his breakfast, Jane would take her baby downstairs so Mrs Hudson would look after him. Then, Jane took Hamish to nursery school and then she went to uni.

Baby Sherlock did things easy for his mother; he never cried when Jane left him to go to uni and he liked to be looked after Mrs Hudson. But in the night, that was the moment when Sherlock made Jane realise how alone she was and how much she needed her husband. Jane sometimes imagined what Sherlock would do in such moments when Locky cried. Jane knew Sherlock would have loved their baby and that he probably would have been very much in love with him as well. After all, Sherlock had wanted and loved Locky since the moment of his conception.

Jane put her baby on her bed, on Sherlock's side, and then she placed a pillow next to him so if he rolled over he wouldn't fall to the floor. "Let me see your mouth..." Jane inspected Sherlock's mouth and she smiled when she found out the reason as to why her baby couldn't sleep. "You're teething!"

Baby Sherlock smiled and Jane ran a hand over his dark, wild curls. "Let me read a bit, Locky. This is very important to me."

Locky looked at Jane and giggled.

"I remember your daddy doing this when Hamish couldn't sleep," said Jane, standing up and taking her baby in her arms. She cuddled Hamish, letting the baby rest his head on the crook of her arm and she supported his weight with her forearm. Now with Locky in her arms, Jane walked two steps forward and then two steps backwards very slowly. She turned the lights off and repeated the process of walking two steps forward and then two steps backward.

 _"You are my baby..."_ sang Jane. _"My dearest baby... daddy loves you so much... daddy loves you so much that he would give you his own heart for you..."_

A few minutes afterwards, Locky was already sleeping very comfortingly in Jane's arms.

With a relieved smile, Jane placed her baby in his cot and returned to her books.

* * *

By the time Sherlock turned nine months old, he was able to mumble a few things and he had already developed his own language. Jane managed to understand a few things, but the one who became his official translator was Hamish. Hamish knew what his little brother wanted to say and he made himself sure everyone around them understood what Sherlock meant when he mumbled things. Hamish knew when Sherlock was hungry, when he wanted to sleep, when he needed a change, when he wanted his mummy or when he simply wanted to watch certain Disney films.

"Mwwwahhhhh... mmmmmmmmuuuhhh!"

Jane frowned. "What is it, baby?"

Hamish giggled. "He says he wanna ice cream!"

"He can't have ice cream," said Jane helping baby Sherlock to eat his smashed veggies. "Nor can you, poppet."

"I wanna ice cream, mummy! Please!"

Jane pointed at Hamish's food. "Eat your veggies."

Hamish ate all his veggies and then showed his mummy his empty plate. "Wanna ice cream."

"You need to wait a bit."

"But -"

Jane took the empty plates. "You can't have ice cream just after you have eaten your lunch. It's bad for your tummy," explained Jane. "Why don't you go and draw something for daddy?"

Hamish's eyes lit up. "Daddy?"

"Yes. We'll go and visit daddy tomorrow."

Hamish ran to his room upstairs leaving Jane alone and baby Sherlock who was sitting on his high chair. Locky's small t-shirt was now dirty after having lunch. Sherlock had the habit of getting his clothes dirty while eating, even when Jane helped him.

"Tomorrow we'll visit your daddy's grave," said Jane, wiping the rest of food off Locky's face. "D'you think he'll be happy after seeing us?"

Locky giggled.

Jane kissed his cheeks. Locky was so lovely, so beautiful.

"I'll take that as a yes. Now you'll help me. I'm revising babies' health today!"

* * *

Jane handed Hamish the bunch of white roses. She allowed her eldest son to place the roses close to his daddy's dark headstone as she knelt next to him and sat baby Sherlock on the green grass. Sherlock looked curiously at the dark stone in front of him and extended his arms, trying to touch the cold headstone with his father's name engraved on it.

Hamish sat next to his baby brother and placed his drawing very close to the headstone and the roses. "Mummy look!"

"What?"

"My picture's not here!" said Hamish, a bit upset.

Jane sat behind her children and patted Hamish's back softly. "Maybe daddy took your picture to Heaven."

"You sure, mummy?"

"Yes. He's an Angel, remember? He must have taken it with him. He also took Locky's photo when he was in my tummy," said Jane, talking about the last scan she got done after Sherlock committed suicide and before their baby was born. She knew maybe the wind had blown them away. It had been a while since Jane and Hamish had last been there.

Hamish smiled. "Okay. Can I tell daddy 'bout school?"

"Of course."

Hamish told Sherlock all about school, about his favourite games, about the films he'd seen and about his little brother. Hamish talked to the headstone as if he was talking to Sherlock. He explained to his dead daddy about how he played and shared his favourite teddy bear and other toys with his little brother.

"And he-he plays with it and then when he sleeps I play with it," explained Hamish. "And Locky can talk too! Look, daddy," Hamish turned to Locky. "Locky, say 'daddy'!"

Locky giggled. "Daaaaa!"

"Mummy, tell Locky to say 'daddy'!"

"He can't speak yet, poppet. He's still very little."

Hamish told his daddy about his grandparents, about Richard and the stories he read to him, about Elizabeth and his tyummy cakes, about his uncle Mycroft and his new umbrella and about Nan Hudson's knitting club and Grandpa Greg and his job.

"Grandpa Greg was on telly! He foun' a missin' kid!"

"It was actually a kidnapping," added Jane with a smile.

Hamish told Sherlock about his visits to the doctor and about how much he wanted his mummy to get him a dog. Jane had already explained to him they wouldn't get a dog as baby Sherlock was very little yet and having a dog meant responsibilities.

"Mummy... can I go and play?" asked Hamish once he had finished telling his daddy all about everything.

Jane pointed at the graves a few feet from them. "Stay close, okay? And don't touch other people's graves."

As soon as Hamish was out of earshot, Jane relaxed a bit and touched Sherlock's dark headstone. She wiped the dust off it using her sleeve and pressed a shy kiss to the cold stone.

"Hello, Sherlock," Jane smiled. "I know we haven't visited in a while and I'd promised we would. I've been very busy lately with these two and uni."

Baby Sherlock giggled and Jane kissed the top of his curls. "They are well; Hamish's going to a normal nursery now. The teachers say he's doing very well and Sherlock's very healthy... very heavy and big too! He's not a fat baby, but his weight is worrying me. His doctor says it's okay but well. You know, your father says he's going to be as tall as you..." Jane looked down at her baby and smiled. "I've named him Sherlock, like you. When I first saw him I knew 'Sherlock' was his name. I think I couldn't have named him differently. Everyone thinks he looks just like a mini you. I think that too.

"We call him Lock, Locky, Sher. Mycroft said those were your same nicknames when you were a baby too. You never told me. I'm breastfeeding him and he's eating some food too. He's teething so he's a bit grumpy most of the day," added Jane with a smile.

Jane turned her head and saw Hamish trying to catch a butterfly. "He misses you so much. There isn't a day without him mentioning your name and saying how much he misses you. He tells Locky stories about you and he likes to show him pictures too. The nightmares are not so frequent now, though. Sherlock, I... I miss you."

Locky clung to his mother and Jane pressed both palms to her eyes, preventing her tears from falling. "God, I miss you so much, Sherlock. There _hasn't been_ one day in my life since you left in which I haven't thought about you. I still don't understand why you did this, love. Why you left me alone..."

Jane wiped the tears off her face and cuddled her baby. "I need you, love. I need you so much. I wish you were here to see our children growing up. You would be so proud of them," Jane smiled. "Hamish is learning the first ten numbers and Locky can get to his feet and he crawls all around the flat. He already mumbles a few things... I bet his first word will be for you... I'm sure his first word will be 'daddy'. Remember I told you?"

The tears rolled down her cheeks when Jane remembered that night at Bart's. Sherlock wrapped his long coat on her figure and they talked for a long time. Jane told Sherlock their baby's first word would be 'daddy'. Sherlock said he was going to be with her in the delivery room when the baby came. Sherlock said he wanted to help their baby to walk its first steps.

It was worst when Jane remembered when they danced their song together, in each other's arms.

And when Jane remembered Sherlock's desperate attempts to make her stay.

_"Jane, please, stay."_

_"What? Mrs Hudson is dying and you want me to stay?"_

_"Jane please, I need you to stay. I need you to stay a bit longer, please."_

_"You said that alone is what you had."_

Jane turned her back to Sherlock and left. She was angry with him and she now hated herself for that. Because maybe if she hadn't had left, Sherlock wouldn't have killed himself. But Jane had no idea why Sherlock committed suicide.

"You can't imagine how guilty I feel. I should've stayed with you, Sherlock. I'm sorry, love. I'm so sorry," whispered Jane. "I'm sorry."

Jane stood up and placed her baby on his pram. She wiped the tears off her face and called Hamish.

"Say goodbye to daddy, Hamish."

Hamish kissed the dark headstone. "G'bye daddy! I pray every night to God to-to keep you good and to giv' you tea!"

Jane smiled and patted her eldest son's head. "Let's go now. You and Locky have to take their naps."

"But I wanna watch 'Findin' Nemo'!"

"Let's go home, poppet," said Jane and watched Hamish walking a few steps ahead when she turned to Sherlock's grave. "Goodbye, Sherlock. I love you. Look after them, would you?"


	3. A Broken Heart

_"Daddy was ill. His heart was tired and God took daddy to Heaven so he wouldn't suffer anymore."_

"Oi Watson!" Jane heard one of her classmates calling her. "Don't be a stick in the mud! All the fuckin' class is goin'!"

Jane turned. "I have to pick up my son."

Alan, one of Jane's classmates and friend who swore like a sailor smiled at her and patter her back. "Come on Jane, just one or two pints!" said he, placing an arm around her shoulders and walking next to her.

"I told you I have to pick up my son," repeated Jane. "And I can't drink. I'm breastfeeding."

"Well, then, come with us and have a glass of water."

Jane shook her head. "No."

"Seriously, Jane, you've just been selected to work with fuckin' Doctor Marshall!"

"It's not a big thing..."

"Not a big thing?" Alan placed a hand on her good shoulder and made her stop her walking. "You're fuckin' _brilliant_ Watson! You've been chosen to assist fuckin' Doctor Marshall in O.R!"

Jane rolled her eyes. "Stop swearing. And thanks by the way, but I've to pick up my son. Tell the others I'm sorry."

"We forgive you 'cause you're a mother. But next time you're buyin' us a round!" joked Alan.

Jane smiled and hailed a cab, not before promising Alan she would go with the rest of the class to have a drink soon. She really wanted to go and have a pint or two, talk to her friends and just share jokes. It was nice to talk about things that weren't books, anatomy lessons and homework. However, Jane had to pick up Hamish from nursery school and she was late. Nevertheless, she had a very good reason to be late; after getting the highest mark in one important exam, her professor chose her to work with him a few hours as his assistant in some surgery procedures. Now Jane was going to take part in surgeries and practice lots.

It was one of the happiest days in her life. Jane really wanted to celebrate with her classmates, but she preferred to have an early night with her children and maybe watch another one of those Disney films Hamish loved so much. But Jane's excitement vanished as soon as she met her eldest son's face.

"Hamish, are you okay?"

"My head hurt, mummy," whispered Hamish.

Jane pressed her hand to Hamish's forehead and then to his cheeks. "You're not feverish. Does your tummy hurts?"

Hamish shook his head. His usually bright eyes were down. His blushed cheeks were pale and he looked very weak.

"Let's go home. What you need right now is to have some rest and hot chicken soup. Mum's recipe."

Once they were back home, Jane put Hamish in her bed, moved the telly to her room so Hamish wouldn't get bored and he could watch some Disney films and then she prepared some chicken soup using her own recipe.

"Are you sure he's okay, dear?" asked Mrs Hudson worriedly.

"Yes. I think it's just a cold. I'm giving him some chicken soup and I'll keep an eye on him tonight."

"Do you want me to look after Sherlock tonight?"

"No, I can manage. Thank you, Mrs Hudson."

That night Locky slept peacefully after Jane had fed him. She put Locky on his cot and then she lay next to Hamish who was sleeping on Sherlock's side. She checked his temperature. Hamish was not feverish but he still looked a bit pale.

Jane was reading an anatomy book, revising for the big day she had ahead; she was to watch and maybe assist, if her teacher allowed her to, in a surgical procedure to fix a middle-aged man's valves. Two hours later Jane was about to go to sleep when Hamish woke up crying. He snuggled against his mother and cried in her arms.

"Hamish, what is it, love? Are you okay? Does your head hurt?"

Hamish shook his head. "Bad dream, mummy."

"It's okay, love, I'm here now."

"Daddy... daddy was there."

Jane cuddled Hamish. "D'you want to tell mummy about it?

"Daddy was 'ere... " whispered Hamish. "But he-he-he _leaved_!"

Jane pressed Hamish tightly against her chest. She didn't have the strength to correct Hamish's speech when he was so sad and so upset. And Jane felt sad, upset and heartbroken as well. Hamish hadn't had those nightmares in a while, but now they were getting close to that day; it was going to be a year since Sherlock had committed suicide.

_A year._

"It's okay. I'm here."

"Don't leave mummy..."

"It's okay Hamish," Jane kissed Hamish's forehead and wiped the tears off his face. "I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. I'll always be with you."

Hamish sniffed. "I wanna daddy... why daddy leaved?"

Jane felt a severe pain in her chest. Hamish hadn't asked that question since Sherlock died. What could she possibly tell her eldest son? That some maniac whose name she knew was James Moriarty and that everyone, even Mycroft, insisted in calling 'Richard Brook' had tried to destroy his daddy and for a reason still unknown to her Sherlock committed suicide by jumping off a hospital rooftop?

No.

Of course Jane couldn't tell Hamish that.

"Daddy was ill," lied Jane. "His heart was tired and God took daddy to Heaven so he wouldn't suffer anymore."

"I wanna daddy!"

"I know baby, I know. But daddy can't come back. He's dead, remember? Dead people can't come back."

Hamish looked at his mummy. He looked very sad and upset. "Why?"

"They just can't."

"And can I go to Heaven too? I wanna be with daddy."

"No, you can't," said Jane. "people go to Heaven when they _have_ to, no when they _want_ to. You don't need to go to Heaven to be with daddy. He's with you, he'll always be with you. Not physically, but his spirit will always live as long as you remember him, you understand?"

Hamish cried again and Jane just let him. She knew her son needed to cry to let the pain go away. Jane knew the emptiness Sherlock left had not only affected her but it also affected Hamish. Sherlock's absence was still affecting both and Jane didn't know what to do anymore. It had been different before; she hadn't needed a man so badly to make her feel loved, important, happy and Hamish hadn't needed a paternal figure. But when Sherlock came back to her life, she suddenly needed him, so her son. When Sherlock returned he gave Jane and Hamish hope, they built a family and they were happy. But now that Sherlock was not there anymore, and that Jane knew he would never be back to them as he did before, Jane needed Sherlock more than ever.

_Please Sherlock. Come back._

"Hamish, have you prayed tonight?"

"No."

"D'you want to pray with me?"

Hamish nodded. He sat on th bed, on Sherlock's side of the bed and glued his hands together under his chin and closed his blue eyes. "Dear God, I wanna you to tell daddy I love him and that I miss him and giv' him tea."

Jane smiled. "Very good."

"'m tired, mummy."

"Okay, let's go to sleep then. You sure you're feeling okay?"

Hamish nodded. "Yes."

"All right. Goodnight, Hamish. I love you," Jane kissed her son's forehead.

"I love you too mummy."

* * *

The following morning, Jane woke up and found the other side of the bed empty. Hamish was nowhere to be seen. Luckily Sherlock was still sleeping in his cot, so Jane wrapped herself with Sherlock's old blue gown and went immediately to the kitchen where he found Hamish already dressed and sitting on his chair.

"Hamish?"

Hamish was clumsily pouring milk into his plastic mug and on the table was a still untouched packet of biscuits. "Mummy! School!"

"How are you feeling today? Better?" asked Jane pressing a hand to Hamish's forehead to check he was not feverish.

Hamish nodded. "Yes! I wanna go school."

Jane hesitated for a moment. Hamish looked well; he wasn't feverish and there was a healthy pink blush on his cheeks. He looked perfectly well to Jane.

"Open your mouth and say 'Ah!"

"Ahhhhh!" Hamish opened his mouth.

Jane took a look and nodded. "Okay. You're going to school today. But you've got to promise me if your head or your tummy hurts you'll tell your teacher so she can call me and I pick you up, okay?"

"Yes!"

Jane managed to prepare Hamish a healthy breakfast to start the day. She drank her tea quickly and had a shower before baby Sherlock woke up. Then, she fed Locky and put him on some clothes; a pair of blue jeans, soft socks, a white tee with a picture of a grumpy cat printed on it and a little knitted green jumper. And when Hamish was ready to go to school, Jane went downstairs with Locky in her arms and Hamish behind her.

Hamish was already on the front door waiting for his mother to took him to school when Jane knocked on Mrs Hudson's door to leave Sherlock with her so she could look after him that morning.

"Are you taking Hamish to school? That boy needs to have some rest. Why don't you leave him with me today? Mrs Turner is coming to knit with me and she loves both boys," said Mrs Hudson taking baby Sherlock in her arms.

Jane nodded. "Thank you Mrs Hudson. But Hamish's feeling better today and he wants to go to school."

"Why don't you go to the country for a few days? London is getting cold and a bit of fresh air and sun won't hurt them."

"I wish I could but I'm starting my practices today."

"Mummy, late!" shouted Hamish from the front door.

Mrs Hudson smiled. "Go. I'll take care of Locky."

Jane finally took Hamish to nursery school. "Today I start to practice."

"Pratice?"

"It's 'practice'. That means I'll start to fix people," explained Jane and knelt to say good bye to her eldest son. "Be a good boy and learn lots."

Hamish smiled. "Yes, mummy."

"I love you, Hamish."

"I love you too, mummy."

* * *

Jane was already dressed wearing a pair of blue scrub trousers and a matching scrub top. Her hair was secured, covered with a scrub cap and a face mask. She was scrubbing in, trying to get her hands and forearms as sterilized as possible for the surgery. Doctor Marshall hadn't already told her whether she was going to participate in the surgery or not, but Jane knew she needed to be prepared.

"Rings off, Miss Watson," said Doctor Marshall walking past her. "You've got five minutes."

"Of course, Doctor Marshall."

Jane looked at her wedding ring. It was going to be _a year_ since Sherlock's death in just two days. Jane had never considered taking her wedding ring off, not even to wash the dishes or to have a bath or a shower, but this time she knew she had to because of work reasons.

Maybe it was time to let it go.

Jane removed her ring and placed it on her breast pocket.

"Ready?" asked a nurse holding a disposable surgical gown for Jane to wear.

She nodded. "Yes."

Jane's eyes were as wide as saucers when Doctor Marshall - Chief of Cardiac and Thoracic Surgery at Bart's University - and one of her teachers as well took the scalpel and produced an incision in the middle of a patient's chest.

"Look closely, Miss Watson," whispered Doctor Marshall and gestured her to participate in the procedure. "Take the forceps."

"I thought I was going to watch -"

"You've read the theory and you're the best of your class. Now take the forceps and help me to fix this man's heart," said the Doctor, cutting Jane off.

"Yes, sir." Jane took a deep breath and followed her teacher's instructions.

* * *

The day Hamish was born, no one thought he would survive. Actually, a few minutes after he was born he had a heart attack and the doctors did all they could to save his life. And the doctors saved him, even though he was a premature baby, and very, very small.

The circumstances in which Hamish came to the world were not the ideal ones, nor the ones Jane had dreamt of. Hamish was born after his mother had been hit and pushed down the stairs. The episode, now almost forgotten by his mother and the people involved such as Sherlock, who after injecting himself a high dose of cocaine did not only shove Jane against a wall; Sherlock had also slapped Jane hard across the face, he pressed his whole weight over her prominent baby bump making her uterus collapse by trying to have sex with her without her consent and then Sherlock pushed Jane down the stairs when she tried to get help. Mycroft, who had taken Jane's unconscious body to the hospital and got her some protection so his brother wouldn't hurt her anymore hardly remembered that day in which he went to Baker Street and found Jane lying unconscious on the stairs, bleeding and losing her baby - Hamish - the baby Sherlock told everyone was his when it wasn't.

But that was not all. When Hamish was born, he had to stay in hospital, inside a special incubator and be connected to a machine because his lungs and his heart were weak and he couldn't breathe by himself. Hamish had to stay inside that incubator and he couldn't be with his mother, with Jane, until three months after he was born. Jane could touch, feel, kiss and hold Hamish the very same day he was allowed to leave hospital.

Hamish was three months old when he finally met his mother.

Being a premature baby not only meant Hamish was 'just little'. The very same day Hamish was allowed to leave hospital, that incubator and finally meet his mother, the doctors told Jane Hamish was going deaf in his right ear and that he would probably have developmental delay. Many doctors told Jane Hamish would probably have many problems in the future.

They were right.

Hamish suffered from headaches, migraines and seizures. Everything in Hamish's life happened later than normal, such as the usual milestones in a baby's life: walking the first steps, speaking - mumbling the first words and so on. Due to his condition and his learning problems, Hamish had to go to a special day care for disabled children while Jane studied and had two jobs to support her son and give him all the things he needed.

When Hamish was born Jane was alone; Sherlock had been taken away from her and Hamish so he wouldn't hurt them again. Jane finally confessed her mother who Hamish's real father was and Mrs Watson turned her back to her daughter and left her and her baby - her grandchild - alone. Jane's father died in Iraq and Harry was an alcoholic. Sherlock's parents turned their backs to Jane and her baby as well, thinking she had not only lied to them but also to their son saying her baby was Sherlock's and that she originally wanted their money. And even though Mycroft wanted to help, Jane rejected his money several times and decided she wouldn't need a Holmes to help her.

Hamish could barely speak properly and his heart was very weak when Sherlock Holmes returned to Jane Watson's life and everything changed. There were American men aiming their guns to Hamish when he called Sherlock 'daddy' for the first time. Hamish had asked his mother why his little friends had a mummy and a daddy and he only had a mummy. Jane replied he only had her and that they were fine that way. But when Sherlock appeared and when Jane saw how much Hamish loved him, how much her son's poor speech skills improved and, mostly important, that Sherlock was clean, Jane decided to give Sherlock a second chance. And Jane explained Hamish Sherlock was his daddy.

After Sherlock returned, Hamish seemed to be healing. His health, his speech skills and his mental abilities improved. Hamish Watson was now Hamish Watson Holmes and he was a very healthy boy. But this didn't last much and when Sherlock committed suicide Hamish started to have nightmares. They happened several times a few months after Sherlock's death, but a while ago they were rare and unusual.

Jane had taken Hamish to the doctor's every month and every month Jane was assured Hamish was good and healthy.

But no one could prevent this.

Not even Jane.

Hamish was playing with one of his little friends. Each had their own favourite super hero; Hamish had a Superman doll and the other boy a Spiderman doll. Both boys were running along the small park - Hamish behind his little friend when he stopped and dropped his Superman doll to the floor. Hamish felt breathless, but he continued running along when he felt a severe pain in his chest.

"Mish!" shout the other boy when he saw Hamish had stopped running.

Hamish pressed a hand to his chest, to the right side - close to his heart, and shut his eyes tightly. Hamish remembered his mother and he knew he had to tell one of the teachers his chest was hurting, but he couldn't articulate a word - not even a sound.

"Mu-mummy..."

Hamish felt a severe pain on his chest and he also had an headache. He felt breathless and suddenly he couldn't move his left arm. He fell to the floor, unconscious, when he felt his heart had stopped beating.

* * *

"Well done, Miss Watson," said Doctor Marshall as he looked at the work Jane had done to repair the patient's valves. "Now we can -"

Suddenly, the heart stopped beating and the blood pressure dropped.

"Blood pressure dropped," said one assistant nurse. "We're losing him!"

Jane stared at the patient dying in front of her and walked a step backwards. She knew she wasn't allowed to cry in an operating room, but she couldn't stop thinking the man she was practicing - performing her first surgery to was dying just in front of her.

Doctor Marshall took the paddles. "Charge to seventy. Clear!"

Nothing.

* * *

Mycroft Holmes was best known for his abilities to deal with impossible, difficult situations and still keep looking like a calm man. Mycroft Holmes could be sitting in front of the leader of North Korea sipping a cup of his best tea, the very same one the Queen drinks everyday, and he would still be looking calm and peaceful, even when the Asian leader could maybe have threatened the safety of England.

In front of the man who occupied a not so minor position of the British Government were two men, both leaders coming from a communist country staring at him with their dark eyes while the translator did the job of telling them what the British Government thought of them and their country. On the desk between them, between Mycroft and the two men coming from South America, were three cups of tea: one was close to be empty, and the other two were still untouched - Mycroft quickly deduced those men had been warned not to drink what the English give you.

Mycroft Holmes doesn't like to be interrupted - he hates to be interrupted.

"Mister Holmes, I need you to come with me," whispered Anthea to his ear.

In front of Mycroft, the two Latin men stared at him in disbelief.

"Anthea, I remember I've told you -"

"Mycroft, I _need_ you to come with me."

Mycroft noticed her facial expressions and the way she was taking his wrist to drag him out of the office. It was such a touche she was not allowed to when they were working. They only touched when they were in the car, when they were in private, when they were not politicians and leaders in the office. And Anthea never called him 'Mycroft' when they were working. He was always 'Mister Holmes'.

Mycroft knew this was important.

"Anthea -"

"It's Hamish. He's in hospital."

The meeting was immediately canceled.

* * *

"He's stable now. Blood pressure back to normal," said the nurse and Jane let out a long sigh.

They had been trying to save them patient for more than fifteen minutes. Now the same Doctor Marshall was finishing the surgery when a nurse came in.

"What an awful thing. Just a little four-year-old kid," said the nurse as she started to clean the operating room.

Jane frowned. "What happened?"

"Next door. An ambulance brought a kid: breathless, almost dead. I think it was his heart."

Doctor Marshall finished the surgery and ordered the nurses to take the patient to ICU and to keep a close eye on him, specially and on his blood pressure. He thanked Jane for her assistance and praised her work and his performance in the operating room. Professor Marshall also told Jane the things she needed to improve, such as staying calm and think properly when a patient's life was in danger.

"Hope to see you in my class."

Jane nodded eagerly. "Of course. Thank you again, Doctor."

Jane looked at her watch, she still had a few hours until she got a class to attend to, so she decided to help the nurses to clean the operating room. There were lots to do.

"You think he's going to be okay?"

"Who?" asked the nurse.

"That boy you mentioned before."

"Oh, yes, surely," replied the nurse. "Well, I hope so. You should have seen him, he looked like a little angel."

Jane shook her head. "I've got a small kid too. I don't know what I would do if something like that happened to him."

"Poor little Hamish. I'll pray for him. They said he was in nursery playing when he suddenly collapsed -"

"Hamish?" asked Jane cutting the nurse off.

"Yeah, Hamish Holmes was his name. Why you ask? You know him?"

Jane froze. In mere seconds her eyes were full of tears. Jane felt her heart pounding hard within her chest.

Hamish was dying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something has to be said about Jane's medical course. I'm basing everything on my own experience in med school in my country, not in England, so what I mention in this fic may be completely different from how med school really is in England. Here med students in fourth or fifth year are selected to work in surgical procedures or in any other field within Medicine, as long as their grades are quite high and they are amazingly good. Anyway, this is a fic and everything can happen!


	4. Don't Take Him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got to say many of the things that are going to be mentioned here (medical facts) are real - and by 'real' I mean that I've done research - and some other facts have been "changed" or "manipulated" to accomplish the purposes of this fic. But, as I had said in the previous chapter, this is a fic and everything can happen. However is not like I'm inventing new diseases.

_"Just one more miracle Sherlock, please, don't take him. Please don't take our son. Take me if you want, but don't take Hamish."_

Jane knew where Hamish was. She knew Bart's Hospital like the palm of her own hand. Jane ran and ran through the endless corridors, not giving a damn about the doctors, nurses and patients looking at her and shooting her strange, confused looks as they saw a woman wearing scrubs running, when it was not allowed to, with tears in her eyes.

The Pediatric Intensive Care Unit was a unbearable place to be in. Jane hated that place. She had only been there a few times and it had been when Hamish was born, when he was just a little baby of no more than a few hours when he had to be taken away from her because he couldn't breathe by himself. Hamish lived in that special wing in Bart's Hospital for three months - no more than ninety five days - until he was healthy enough to be held by Jane, his mother, for the first time since he had been born.

The day Jane was allowed to take her baby with her, she promised she would never set a foot there _again_. Jane promised her son he would never be there _again_ because she was going to make everything within her power - and beyond - to make Hamish happy, healthy. The very same day Jane left the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit she promised she would never let anyone do anything to hurt her son _again_. Hamish came to the world after an episode in which his mother almost lost her own life in Sherlock's hands. There was blood on Sherlock's hand, and it was Jane's.

Jane had promised Hamish he would never be there again.

And there he was.

Jane immediately knew where Hamish was because outside one of the main rooms was Mycroft Holmes, standing against the wall, alone, with no assistant by his side, with no umbrella on his hand. But there were traces of tears on Mycroft's pale face. He looked pale, very pale and when Jane stood in front of him he could barely articulate a word.

"Where's Hamish? Where's my son?" asked Jane to the nurse standing outside the main room. "Please, tell me he's okay!"

The nurse barely moved and she barely looked at Jane. She was still focused on the chart she was writing on. "I can't let you in. The doctors are still examining the patient."

"Please, let me in..." begged Jane. But seeing she had no response coming for the nurse in front of her, she grew angry. "HE'S MY SON! PLEASE, I NEED TO KNOW WHAT _HAPPENED_ TO HIM!"

Mycroft stood close by Jane and placed a warm hand on her forearm. "Jane..."

"I need to see my son, please!"

The nurse sighed exasperated. "Listen, miss -"

"Don't 'Miss' me! I need to see my son!"

"Jane -"

Jane turned to Mycroft, furious. "I need to see Hamish! He's my son for god sake -"

"Hamish had a _cardiac arrest_."

Jane froze.

Mycroft didn't know how he managed to say that. He had managed worse situations - but none situation could have possibly been worse than this. Hamish, his nephew, Sherlock's son, was dying. Wars? Bankruptcies? An unfaithful employee leaking important documents? Terrorism? Nothing, but nothing could have possibly been worse than this.

School, university, life and some books had given Mycroft the tools, the skills he needed to be the person he was. He knew how to speak - how to say good and bad things. How to give good and bad news. Mycroft knew how to frighten people. Mycroft also knew how to show the people who worked for him how grateful he was for them, for their work. Mycroft had to tell his parents their youngest son, Sherlock, was death. And Mycroft thought that was the worse thing he had ever done.

Mycroft was so wrong.

Nothing, not a book, not university, not even life had taught Mycroft how to tell a mother his little son was dying.

Jane only stared at Mycroft and countless tears rolled down her face.

"What?" asked she. It was only a mere whisper.

"He's in a _coma_."

* * *

Jane looked at her eldest son lying on a hospital bed. Hamish had his blue eyes closed. His normally fair, soft curls had dry blood stains. Hamish had fallen to the floor unconscious and he hit his forehead and now had a cut and half of his face had a big purple bruise. Hamish was connected to a special machine that was providing him with enough oxygen.

The doctors were telling Jane what happened, why it happened and about his comatose state. However, Jane wasn't listening. She already knew everything. She had read about cardiac arrest, she knew what they were, the symptoms, the causes, the diagnosis, the management.

And the consequences.

"When sudden cardiac arrest occurs in children or adolescents, it may be due to a heart condition that was present at birth -"

Jane nodded. "He had a heart attack when he was born."

One of the two pediatric cardiologist nodded. He was holding a chart with Hamish Watson Holmes' medical records. "The positive thing is that he was taken here immediately. Had it not been like that, the situation would be different now."

Behind Jane, who was sitting next to Hamish, was Mycroft Holmes, calmly - as much as he managed to be - listening to the doctors and trying to understand why this had to happen.

_Why Hamish?_

"As you already know, one of the consequences is -"

"How long?"

The doctors, both experienced men in their field with long years of experience trying to save children and fix their ill hearts didn't know what to say. Jane knew by first hand that no one tells you how to deal with this when you become a doctor. Jane herself knew how to make a diagnosis, decide which treatment was the best... but professors, teachers, doctors don't tell you how to do that.

No one teaches you how to tell a mother her son is about to die.

"We can't tell. It can be hours, days, weeks, months... years."

Jane pressed a hand to her mouth to prevent the sobs and the tears.

"We still need to perform some tests to know if there is some brain and heart damage," explained one of the doctors. "We saved him just in time, but we need to know for sure whether he will need a heart transplant or not."

"God." Jane pressed both hands to her eyes and shook her head.

Mycroft placed a hand on her shoulder. Silent tears were falling down his green eyes.

"Is there," Mycroft hesitated for a moment. "is there anything that can be done to," he pressed a hand to his lips to stop the sobs. "to wake him up?"

One of the doctors shook his head. "No. We need to wait."

Jane took Hamish's hand and kissed it. She pressed soft kisses to his little hand and then to his pale cheek. Hamish was so pale. His skin was white and cold. Jane pressed her fingertips to Hamish's wrist but the pulse was so weak, soft. If it hadn't been for the oxygen mask or Hamish's pulse or his soft breathing anyone could have said he was dead.

And then his face, Hamish's lovely face had purple bruises and he also had a cut on his forehead. No matter how hard Jane tried to shake him, Hamish wouldn't wake up.

"There are some theories that comatose patients can feel what happens around them. And that they can hear also."

"They can," whispered Jane still focused on her son and not looking at either of the two doctors standing across her. "I know Hamish can listen to me, can't you, baby? I'm here. Mummy's here," whispered Jane while caressing Hamish's soft, cold cheeks and tracing patterns with her fingertips. "Mummy's here. You're not alone."

The doctors and Mycroft exchanged a look. One of them looked down at the chart, at Hamish's name specifically. "Mrs Holmes -"

"Watson. I'm Jane _Watson_."

It was the first time Jane said such thing. It was the first time Jane was calling herself Jane Watson.

At that moment Jane decided not to use 'Holmes' anymore.

"Miss Watson, we can _only_ promise we'll do our best. Your son is in good hands."

The doctors left the room and Jane allowed herself to cry again. Endless tears rolled down her cheeks and Mycroft did nothing but cry as well. His silent tears were the perfect contrast to Jane's.

_Why Hamish?_

Jane remembered seeing Hamish just a few days after he was born. He was so little, so small. She could only see him from afar and it didn't matter how much she wanted to hold him, just be with her baby, Jane was not allowed to.

When Jane held her son in her arms for the first time in her life, three months after he had been born, Jane promised him he would never be there again. Jane promised she was not going to let anyone or anything hurt him _again_.

Jane had promised Hamish he was not going to suffer _again_.

And there he was.

And there he was, fighting for his life.

_Dying._

* * *

Three days passed by, and no one could move Jane away from Hamish. Jane didn't sleep and she refused to eat. The only thing Jane had was tea and coffee.

Tea and coffee and nothing else.

She spent most of the time talking to Hamish, telling him those stories she knew he loved, telling him how was the weather, and all the places she wanted to take him to once they left hospital, such as the movies, the zoo, the park, his grandparent's house. She even told Hamish she was going to consider his wish of getting a dog.

During those days Jane didn't have the mind to think in anything else but Hamish. She even refused to go back home to sleep, have a bath or change her clothes; she was still wearing those scrubs she was wearing the day Hamish had a cardiac arrest. The nurses and the doctors tried to convince her to go back home and have some rest, but Jane stayed by Hamish's side.

Everyone visited Jane during those days: Mrs Hudson and Greg, Elizabeth and Richard, Jane's friends and classmates and some of her teachers who were also doctors at Bart's and had heard about her son. Jane had to excuse herself to them and say she wasn't going back to uni soon because she had to take care of her son.

Jane trust her ex parents-in-law to look after baby Sherlock while she stayed at hospital next to Hamish and both Elizabeth and Richard were devastated after the news - after seeing their grandson fighting for his life. Every day was extremely important because every day that passed by was a new day Hamish was fighting for his life. Every day that passed by meant Hamish was fighting and that he was surrendering.

But baby Sherlock enjoyed spending some time with her grandparents, crawling around their big rooms and playing with his dead father's old toys, and there was a moment in which it didn't matter what Elizabeth or Richard did, or what the nannies did, baby Sherlock wouldn't stop crying. He refused to drink his formula and everyone knew he wanted Jane to fed him.

"Calm down, Locky, calm down," whispered Jane when Elizabeth went to the hospital with baby Sherlock.

Jane was sitting next to Hamish's bed and Elizabeth cried when he saw her grandson in such conditions, almost dead. She still couldn't believe it.

"Buuuuuahhhhhh!"

"Jane, you need to go home."

Jane looked at Hamish's form on the bed. "Hamish needs me."

"Sherlock also needs you. He misses you."

"I know."

Elizabeth sighed. "You need to have some rest. And to have a bath and change your clothes. You haven been here for more than three days -"

"My son needs me," repeated Jane.

"Jane, you've got another son who needs you as well. I know this is not easy. But understand both of them need you -"

Jane looked into Elizabeth's eyes. "I won't let you give me lessons of how to be a mother. I've raised Hamish alone, there were days in which I didn't eat just to give him everything he needed - I know what is to be a mother. I would give my life for Hamish and Sherlock. In fact, I _will_ give Hamish my heart if he needs it right now," snapped Jane. "You can't come and tell me what to do. You weren't the best mother. I remember seeing Sherlock sad, alone and you and your husband were enjoying another of your trips abroad - you left him alone when he most needed you."

When Elizabeth closed her eyes and heavy tears rolled down her face, Jane realised what she had said.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Elizabeth."

The old woman shook her had and smiled bitterly. "You are right. I wasn't the best mother. And I know my lack of affection towards Sherlock was one of the main reasons why he became an addict."

"No, Elizabeth -"

"It is the truth, Jane," said Elizabeth cutting Jane off. "He told me so himself. I didn't give him all the love he _needed_... I know that if I had loved him more... he wouldn't have been so cold. He wouldn't have hurt you," whispered Elizabeth. "I wasn't a good mother, Mycroft had said so as well. I was only good at hiring nannies and teachers."

Tears started to fall down Jane's eyes. "I'm sorry, Elizabeth. I didn't mean it - I'm sorry."

"I understand this is hard for you. I've lost one of my sons. We are parents, and as such we can only think our children will bury us, not the other way around."

"I don't want Hamish to die."

Elizabeth nodded. "I know. But staying here, not eating and not sleeping won't make him any good. And you know it."

"I just don't want to leave him alone."

"He won't be alone. We can look after him, me or Richard, Martha or Greg. Hamish will be fine. You go home with Locky and have some rest."

* * *

Jane went back to Baker Street. She had a bath and couldn't stop crying thinking about the last three past days, about Hamish lying almost dead on a bed, about his weak heart and about the consequences. Hamish would probably have several brain damage, amnesia, he could also need a new heart - Hamish could die.

Everything could be possible. Jane had read books about it: the human body is a big machine. A complex machine that will always fight to survive - or not.

Jane thought of every scenario. What if Hamish had several brain damage? Everything she and Sherlock as well had fought for for Hamish to learn and to overcome his developmental delay and be like any other boy could just vanish. Hamish had improved lots, but now that was on the stakes. Jane knew it was always better if Hamish survived - the intellect, all the things Hamish had learnt meant nothing. Jane would help Hamish if that happened.

But she didn't want to think of the other consequences, about a possible case of amnesia, about his weak heart... a possible heart transplantation.

Jane was feeding baby Sherlock when she remember the date.

It was a year.

Sherlock had died _a year_ ago.

Jane placed her baby in his pram and decided to visit Sherlock's grave. She was going to ask for one last miracle. She needed her eldest son to survive - to live. Hamish was very little and he still had a long life ahead. Jane was decided not to bury her son.

Hamish needed a miracle.

* * *

Mycroft held his phone and dialed the number, but he hesitated. God, he hated it. How was he going to do it? How was he going to say it? Mycroft didn't want to do it, but he knew he had to. They had an agreement. His brother needed to know what was happening.

Sherlock needed to know Hamish was dying.

They had set rules. Mycroft was not calling him unless it was about a matter of extreme importance. Both Sherlock, who was going to fight and Mycroft, who was going to keep his little brother's family safe, both knew a single call and someone who belonged to Moriarty's criminal web could know Sherlock Holmes was alive and trying to destroy the remains of James Moriarty's empire.

So when Sherlock felt his phone vibrating on his breast pocket, he didn't take more than one second to pick up the call. He already knew it was Mycroft. Mycroft was the only person in the world who had his number. And the only one who knew he was still alive.

_"What happened? I can't talk now."_

Mycroft felt Sherlock was breathless. The elder Holmes knew his brother was either running away from someone, hiding more likely or in the middle of a chasing.

 _"Mycroft... what happened?"_ insisted Sherlock.

"Hamish is dying."

* * *

Jane looked down at the pram. Baby Sherlock was peacefully sleeping after she had fed him. They were across Sherlock's grave. It was a cloudy, cold day. Jane felt her wedding ring inside her jeans pocket and shoot a quick glance to the flowers that had surely been placed there next to the headstone. She knew they had been placed there by Sherlock's parents, maybe Greg, maybe Mycroft or maybe even Mrs Hudson had been there that day as well.

Jane didn't care.

Not that day. Not at that moment.

Not anymore.

"You left us a year ago. I don't know why you did it and I don't care anymore," said Jane, firmly. "You were selfish enough to take your life and leave our children without a father. You lied to me: you said you'd always be with me, by my side, remember? You lied to Hamish too..."

Jane's hands turned into angry balled fists.

"I've done my best to fill your space, to be mum and dad at the same time. I can't do it. No one could do it."

She knelt to take some middle sized rocks that could perfectly fit on her palms. "But I won't let you take Hamish, you hear me?"

Jane threw the first rock against Sherlock's dark headstone. And it left a scratching mark.

"I told Hamish you were an Angel, that you were on Heaven looking after him, that you'll always keep him safe. I can't believe I've lied to him just to protect your selfishness... But I can't tell him you don't exist anymore. I've told him you'll always be with him as long as he remembers you. Guess what? He's in a coma and he can die - I won't let you take him!"

She threw all the rocks she had and fell to the floor defeated, panting. Jane watched how every single one of the rocks she had thrown had hit the dark headstone and left scratching marks. Jane wanted to break that dark, posh headstone. She wanted to burn that grave, burn Sherlock's body, or whatever was left of it.

Jane was angry.

"I won't let you take him. But if you cared... if you still care, wherever you are now please... just _one_ more miracle Sherlock, please, save Hamish. Don't take him. Please don't take our son," whispered Jane and baby Sherlock opened his little eyes and started mumbling things in his baby speech. "I will give him my heart if he needs it, but please, don't take him. Take _me_ if you want, but don't take _him_."

"Daaaaaa... daaaaaa!" mumbled Locky.

Jane cried. She wiped the tears off her face and then touched the dark, cold headstone with that same hand, like painting it with her tears.

"If you take our son I'll never forgive you."


	5. Fix You

_"I love you so much Hamish. I've loved you since the moment your mother told me she was expecting you."_

* * *

Jane spent most of the day sitting next to Hamish's bed. It was six in the morning and Jane was already close to Hamish's bed, holding a cup of coffee in one hand and one of his favourite books in the other. Jane read Hamish his favourite stories all day long. She barely left her son's side unless it was to go to the loo or talk to the doctors who were monitoring her son.

Baby Sherlock had to stay at his grandparents as Jane couldn't look after him anymore. Jane didn't have the heart to leave Hamish alone, even when many doctors, nurses and even his ex parents-in-law and Greg and Mrs Hudson, who were like her parents, had already told her Hamish would not recover if she kept on like that, barely eating and barely sleeping.

So Jane stayed with Hamish most of the day and went back to Baker Street at night, to have a bath, eat and sleep.

And very early in the morning Jane was back to the hospital to read and talk to his eldest son. It was a theory, the doctors had told her, but Jane as sure Hamish was listening to her.

Jane knew Hamish was still alive - only sleeping and that one day, hopefully very soon, he was going to wake up.

"Look, Hamish, Locky's here today," said Jane as she moved the pram close to the bed. "He's missed you, haven't you, Locky?"

Sherlock giggled and clapped his hands together. Next to Hamish's unconscious form was their favourite teddy bear.

The very same one their daddy Sherlock had given to Hamish years ago.

"Nan Lizzie is organising a big party. Locky will turn one year soon, aren't you, love?"

Sherlock just giggled loudly. This made his dark curls bounce over his forehead and his chubby baby cheeks turned pink. Jane smiled at her youngest child and took him in her arms. Sherlock looked curiously at his big brother and then to his mother looking for an explanation as to why Hamish was sleeping and no matter his mummy's voice, or his little hands on his brother's arms Hamish wouldn't wake up.

"Mishhhhhh!"

Jane nodded. "Yes, Locky, this is Hamish."

Sherlock patted Hamish's arm repeatedly, but after seeing no response he turned to his mummy and pouted.

"Mish... Mish."

"Hamish's sleeping now, baby. He's very tired and he needs to have some rest," explained Jane, softly, while combing the baby's dark curls with her fingers. "He'll be in your birthday party, though. And we'll play games and there will be a big cake with a candle only for you. I promise."

Sherlock giggled. Jane was sure he understood nothing.

This was one of those days in which Sherlock could be with no one but with his mummy. Those were the days Jane took him to Hospital to be with Hamish. And the three of them spent the day inside a special room, both little children listening to Jane's stories about a frog turning into Prince, about a man who liked to solve mysteries by looking at people's clothes... eventually Jane ran out of stories so she started telling them stories about their father.

"...And daddy liked to play the violin. He played the violin when you were very little inside my tummy and you wouldn't stop kicking," said Jane to her youngest child and then turned to Hamish. "and he prepared the most delicious pancakes for breakfast, can you remember, Hamish?"

Jane looked at the unconscious form of her eldest son and let some tears roll down her face.

"He was very proud of you two... he loved you so much."

Sherlock fell asleep in Jane's arms when she placed him on his pram to go back home after a long day in hospital.

Jane didn't want to go. She wanted to stay with Hamish as much as possible, as much as the doctors could allowed her to, but she knew she had to go; Sherlock needed to sleep on his cot, and she was very tired as well.

"Please Hamish, wake up. I'm here, waiting for you," whispered Jane pressing soft kisses to Hamish's forehead. "I love you."

Jane left Hamish's room with the hope the following day Hamish was going to wake up.

And with the hope her son was not going to die.

* * *

A year.

It had been a year since he left and Sherlock hated himself for it. He hated to be away from them, constantly running from one place to another, from one point on the globe to the other knowing he still had ahead the remains of a big empire he ought to destroy otherwise not only his family but the entire world would be in danger.

There were days in which Sherlock pulled the trigger and another criminal fell to the floor dead. However, that only proved James Moriarty's empire was huge. His criminal web was big, far too big of what Sherlock initially had conceived of.

As he had said once to his older brother, Sherlock was not wasting any time, he was running after every criminal who belonged to James Moriarty's spider web. But he was tired. Sherlock had to run after expert criminals and hit men. And Sherlock also had to run away from them or he would probably get himself killed.

Sherlock Holmes hadn't returned to England since that last time in which he met his youngest son Sherlock - that day he held that tiny baby in his arms and kissed Jane for one last time. Since that day Sherlock had not returned.

And Sherlock missed them so much.

And it was not in his plans to return until the last man working for James Moriarty had a bullet between his eyes. Sherlock knew if he set a single foot in England, Jane, Hamish and baby Sherlock were going to die. But when Mycroft called him, just in the very same moment he was running away after killing another criminal in Minsk, he knew he had to see Hamish.

Sherlock knew he had to go back. He was not going to let his son die. Sherlock knew he ought to be by his side, somehow. But Sherlock didn't _need_ to be there because he was Hamish's father. It was not a duty. Sherlock needed to be there because he loved his eldest son. He had always loved Hamish, since the very moment he and Jane read together the blood results that confirmed her pregnancy. And even when Hamish was not his son, biologically speaking, Sherlock loved him as if he had been the one whose seed had conceived him.

The detective had once considered the idea of killing Sam Sawyer, Hamish's biological father, when his suddenly apparition was threatening the safety of his family. Sherlock was not going to let Sam Sawyer take Hamish away from him - from them. Sherlock didn't mind having blood stains on his hands if that meant Hamish and Jane would be safe - with him.

Sherlock loved Hamish so much it broke his heart to leave him. Sherlock had every single picture Hamish had coloured and placed for him closely to his empty grave. He even had Jane last ultrasound before their baby was born. Those were the only things Sherlock had to remember them because he couldn't even have a picture. If he ever got captured, and they saw that picture, Sherlock knew his family - Jane, Hamish and baby Sherlock would die.

And it also broke his heart knowing Hamish was dying and that apparently they could do nothing to stop it.

Sherlock had to take that risk and go back to England.

He needed to see his son.

* * *

Baby Sherlock was on his feet. His little fingers were curled around the metallic material of Hamish's bed. Baby Sherlock, or Locky like most people called him, was trying to walk his first steps. Next to him, on his right side, was Jane, holding his little hand and making herself sure Locky wouldn't fall and hurt himself.

"Very good, Locky... Come on, just a few more steps..."

In front of them was Mycroft, curling his lips upwards, just slightly, showing how proud he was after seeing his youngest nephew walking his first steps.

It took Sherlock a couple of minutes until he let go of Jane's hand and started walking alone. Jane stood a few steps across with her arms extended to him, encouraging him to walk his first steps alone.

Locky's steps were short and clumsy and he almost fell to the floor but baby Sherlock had pride and he rejected Jane's help.

Mycroft couldn't help but smile when his little nephew finally got close to his mummy and curled his little fingers on her mother's jeans.

"Muuuhhh!"

Jane smiled widely for the first time in weeks and hugged her youngest son. "Very good Sherlock! You can walk now!"

Baby Sherlock smiled too.

* * *

"What have the doctors said?"

"He's stable. There's no heart damage... at least not now."

Mycroft nodded.

"The brain damage... they won't know for sure until he wakes up. We need to wait," added Jane.

"You look tired."

"I'm fine."

It had been weeks, and Jane barely ate and slept enough. She had lost weight again and she was not feeding Sherlock anymore. Now he had bottles and food only, but Jane barely ate properly unless Mrs Hudson or Elizabeth told her to.

Jane had bags under her eyes and she looked so fragile.

"I'll give you a lift," said Mycroft, pressing a warm hand to Hamish's and faking a reassuring smile. It was already late and baby Sherlock was getting grumpy, a clear sign he was tired and that he wanted to sleep.

He looked how Jane kissed Hamish's forehead and asked him to wake up soon.

From the corner of his eye, Mycroft noticed a dark shadow when they were walking along the endless corridors of Bart's Hospital.

* * *

Sherlock knew what had happened, Mycroft himself had told him about the cardiac arrest and Hamish's comatose state. Sherlock was well aware his son was there, on the thin line between life and death.

But no one told Sherlock about this.

When Sherlock opened the door, he felt his heart had stopped beating. The sight of his son, unconscious, connected to machines that helped him to breathe - it was too much to take.

It was worst than he had imagined.

Silently, Sherlock made his way into the room and sat next to Hamish's bed. He kissed his forehead and glanced at the bruises on his face that were fading away and at the healing stitches on his forehead. Sherlock knew Hamish had collapsed when he was playing at nursery school.

_Why Hamish?_

"Hello, Hamish," whispered Sherlock, taking his son's hand and feeling his weak pulse. "It's me, daddy."

Hamish didn't move.

But Sherlock knew Hamish was listening.

"You've grown up so much... you're a big boy now. Have you been taking care of your mother and your brother as I had asked you to?"

Nothing. Not a single response. Not a single little sign that could have possible told Sherlock his son was there, listening to him.

Hamish had been reduced to nothing, to an unconscious body lying on a hospital bed just 'sleeping'.

Sherlock caressed his son's curls, tracing imaginary patterns with his long fingers. He immediately noticed Hamish's body was cold. "I'm sorry for not being here with you. I'm sorry, son."

Nothing.

"I keep your drawings. They are lovely," whispered Sherlock, caressing Hamish's cheeks with his thumb. "I know you are doing amazingly at school."

Nothing.

"You are eating all your vegetables and drinking your milk, aren't you?"

Nothing.

"I wish I could stop this. I wish I could give you my heart," said Sherlock as he rested his curly head on Hamish's stomach. "I wish I could find a cure and fix this."

Nothing.

Sherlock said nothing and closed his eyes. With his head still over Hamish's stomach, Sherlock closed his eyes and let the tears roll down his eyes. The only audible sounds were the ones produced by the heart monitor and the breathing machine connected to Hamish. The sounds were soft and still. Hamish's heart was beating very weakly.

Hamish's life was in danger. Hamish was literally standing there, by the thin line between life and death.

And anything could happen.

Sherlock was conscious his son could die at any moment. But Hamish could also survive.

_Why being a detective - a hero if you can't even keep your son alive?_

"You need to fight, Hamish. Don't give up. Your mother needs you," whispered Sherlock to Hamish's left ear - his good ear. " _I_ need you. I'll come back soon and I want to be with you and your brother. But you need to fight. You need to fight for your life, son."

Nothing.

"You're my life, Hamish. You can't die. Please, don't die."

Sherlock looked up and saw Hamish's left index finger moving very, but very slowly.

Sherlock's eyes lit up.

"There are things... there are things I'm not proud of. Things I've done to your mother and I know they are causing you this pain. I know what I did to your mother is..." Sherlock paused to take a deep breath and pull himself together. "Is one of the reasons why your heart is failing and you're fighting for your life now."

A single tear rolled down Hamish's right eye.

And Sherlock kissed it.

"I love you so much Hamish. I have always loved you, since the moment your mother told me she was expecting you," whispered Sherlock as he removed the scarf that had been tied tightly around his neck. "You have always been my son, my child. You're mine, Hamish. I'm your father and I love you. I will always love you."

This time, Sherlock felt Hamish moving one finger over his hand.

Sherlock felt his heart beating faster within his chest.

"I have to go. But I'll come back, I promise," said Sherlock placing his blue scarf around Hamish's neck softly. "You need to wake up soon. Your mother and your brother need you."

When Sherlock got to his feet, more tears rolled down Hamish's face.

Sherlock wiped them off his face and pressed soft, warm kisses to his eldest son's forehead. "Don't give up, son. You're strong, I know you are. I love you Hamish."

Sherlock was standing at the door when he turned and looked at his eldest son one last time before leaving again.

_Please, don't die._

* * *

Jane heard her phone beeping. She got up immediately and looked at the screen.

The hospital was calling.

"Something happened to my son?" asked Jane, breathless.

Inside, Jane was begging for a miracle.

_"Miss Watson, your son woke up."_


	6. Blue

_"It's my fault, isn't it," whispered Jane. "I should have taken care of him."_

_Baby Sherlock didn't say anything. He was a baby, a baby of less than a year and he could not understand at all what his mother was telling him. He could only look at her blue eyes filled with tears._

_"I'm not a good mummy."_

* * *

"Hamish! Oh God, Hamish..." said Jane, breathless, as she looked at her eldest son lying on that hospital bed _awake_.

As soon as Jane was told Hamish had awaken she took baby Sherlock downstairs to leave him with Mrs Hudson and went to the hospital as fast as she could.

It was a cold night. It was going to dawn soon. Jane had tears in her eyes when she saw her son awake, with his blue eyes _open_ again and moving his arms and hands, his fingers, and mostly important, speaking.

Hamish was wide awake, smiling. He looked healthy again. Hamish had his eyes wide open and after several weeks, Jane looked into them and thanked God for this miracle: for having her son back again with her.

For having her son back to life.

"Mu... mummy..." mumbled Hamish.

"Miss Watson, he can't talk now. We still need to check on his vital signs and run some test to discard or confirm any possible brain damage," explained one of the doctors while walking Jane outside the room.

"But he's fine, isn't he?"

Another doctor nodded. "He's awake. That's what matters now. Please, go home and have some rest. These things take time."

Outside the room, Jane called everyone telling them the good news. Both Mr and Mrs Holmes, Greg and Mrs Hudson promised to go and visit Hamish as soon as possible.

* * *

**He is awaken. MH**

**I know. SH**

**Don't take the scarf. SH**

**She will see it. MH**

**It's Hamish's. SH**

* * *

Jane was sitting at the hospital cafeteria. It was six in the morning and she was still waiting. And on the table was a cup of coffee and his blue scarf.

_Sherlock's blue scarf._

Jane couldn't touch it. She only stared at it and cried. Tears rolled down her face when she pressed it against her chest and inhaled the familiar, yet old scent - that scent Jane loved, that scent she missed and craved for...

Sherlock's scent.

The first time Jane saw that scarf, she knew it was perfect for Sherlock. She was going back home with Hamish after picking him from nursery when she walked past that shop and saw it. It was Sherlock's birthday soon. And that scarf reminded her of the one she had given him years ago when she was pregnant and expecting Hamish - and that same night Sherlock almost killed her.

When Jane bought that scarf, she wrapped it and handed the package to Hamish and told him it was his present for Sherlock.

_"Happy Bir-birthday Sherwock!"_

_Sherlock was playing a very sad tune with his violin and as soon as he heard Hamish' voice calling him, he turned and his eyes lit up. Hamish plated a kiss on his cheek and handed him his present. Sherlock sat on his chair with Hamish on his lap and opened the present, not giving his mind a second to deduce what it was. He wanted to be surprised._

_And he was._

_Hamish gave him a blue scarf. And it looked exactly like the one Jane had given years ago._

_"Mummy said you-you like blue scarf!"_

_Sherlock nodded. "It's like the one you gave me for my birthday."_

_"Yes," said Jane. "It's getting cold and you needed one."_

_"Thank you."_

Since then Sherlock would never leave the flat without that scarf tied tightly to his neck. He wore it all the time. And it suited him, it suited him and his pale skin, his long neck and his special coat.

Jane remembered Sherlock telling Hamish his blue scarf was the best present anyone could have ever given to him.

And Jane also remembered the last two times she saw that blue scarf; first, when she looked at Sherlock's death body on the pavement of Bart's hospital after he had committed suicide. There was a pool of blood, lots of blood and that blue scarf she had bought for him so their child would give it to him... that blue scarf was blood stained.

The very last time Jane saw that scarf, it was folded close to a pile of Sherlock's blood stained clothes - next to his _dead_ body on the mortuary. Sherlock's body was covered with a long white sheet. Molly was crying. Her hands were shaking when she asked Jane if she wanted to see the body and if she was taking his clothes, his shoes, his wedding ring.

_"No."_

_Molly blinked and more tears rolled down her eyes. "Jane, these are Sherlock's -"_

_"I don't want anything. I don't want to see him either - not like this. Not anymore," said Jane, firmly, and left._

As far as Jane knew, because she had never asked, Mycroft had taken care of those things.

So why the doctors gave her Sherlock's blue scarf?

And why Hamish was wearing it?

* * *

"Tirew mummy..." mumbled Hamish.

Jane kissed his forehead and nodded. "It's okay, Hamish. You need to have some rest."

Some hours later Jane was told she could see her son. Hamish was not connected to those machines that helped him to breathe. There was a healthy pink shade on Hamish's cheeks and he wasn't pale anymore. His heartbeats were stronger, as his pulse and he was awake - Hamish was _alive_.

"Wanna daddy."

Jane frowned. "Hamish... can you remember where daddy is?"

"He was 'ere."

Jane took a deep breath. The doctors have told her, and she knew as well that cardiac arrest patients usually suffer from memory loss. Hamish could lose all his memory or some bits.

Hamish forgot his daddy was death.

"Hamish, love, daddy's dead," whispered Jane. "He's an Angel, remember? He's in Heaven."

"Daddy was 'ere, mummy. He said he was proud and that he has my pictures!"

Jane faked a smile. "That's impossible because daddy's dead -"

"No! Daddy was 'ere!"

"Hamish, calm down -"

"I wanna daddy!" shouted Hamish with tears in his eyes. His heart's beats were quicker now and the heart monitor let Jane know this. _"I WANNA DADDY!"_

Jane placed a hand over Hamish's, but the little boy rejected her touch. "You mean! I wanna daddy! I wanna daddy!"

"Hamish, please! Daddy died a year ago!"

Hamish started to shout and doctors and nurses got inside the room. One of the doctors had to ask Jane to leave the room, but she refused to do it.

"He's my son!"

"Miss Watson, you need to wait outside."

Hamish had to be given sedatives and he _closed_ his eyes again.

* * *

"I'm so sorry, Jane dear. I'm so sorry."

Jane faked a very little smile. "It's okay. The doctors had warned me about it."

"But, will he remember? Will he be okay?"

Jane looked at baby Sherlock on his pram and shrugged. "I don't know."

* * *

Baby Sherlock was sitting on his pram. He was going to turn just one year old soon, and he was far bigger to be just a baby of less than a year. His legs were long, as his arms, and he was a chubby baby: his cheeks were round and they had always been pink tainted.

Many people had said it was the only thing that made him different to his father - to the father everyone thought Locky had never known. But truth to be told, baby Sherlock, or Locky like most people called him, had met his father. The very same day Sherlock was born, his daddy returned from the death and held him in his arms. His daddy kissed his forehead and caressed his dark little curls with his long fingers.

Baby Sherlock didn't remember - but he had met his daddy.

Baby Sherlock had always made his mother smile. It was a gift he had. Every time Jane was sad, every time she remembered his husband and the moment he committed suicide just in front of her, baby Sherlock was there to giggle, clap his hands together, press kisses to his mother's face and rest his dark curly head against her chest, close to her heart.

Somehow baby Sherlock reminded Jane she had a heart, and even when his daddy had left them alone, Jane still had a heart - and that heart needed to keep beating for him and for Hamish.

For her children.

For _their_ children.

Locky was sitting on his pram, with a bottle of warm milk in his little chubby hands. He looked up to his mummy, who was holding a cup of coffee and helplessly crying in the hospital cafeteria. Locky dropped the bottle to the floor to catch his mother's attention.

Once Jane looked at her baby, Locky extended his arms and Jane placed him on her lap. Baby Sherlock pressed his hands clumsily on his mummy's face, trying to wipe the tears off and make it better.

Somehow.

"Mu... muuuhhh!"

Jane faked a smile. "It's okay, Sherlock. We'll go home soon."

"Mish!" mumbled Sherlock and focused his gray eyes on his mother. "Mish mish mish!"

"Hamish's sleeping."

Sherlock frowned.

Jane kissed his dark curls.

"It's my fault, isn't it," whispered Jane. "I should have taken care of him."

Baby Sherlock didn't say anything. He was a baby, a baby of less than a year old and he could not understand at all what his mother was telling him. He could only look at her blue eyes filled with tears.

"I'm not a good mummy."

Baby Sherlock started pulling at Jane's shirt.

"No, Locky."

"Mmmm!"

"No baby, I'm sorry. I don't have milk for you," whispered Jane looking at the empty bottle on the table. "Let's get you some food."

Jane got Sherlock some smashed potatoes and juice. She sat on that same table and fed her baby. It was late and she knew Sherlock was to be sleeping. But Jane needed to be there. She needed to know what was happening to her son, to Hamish, and if he was ever going to remember.

The cardiac arrest had deleted Hamish's memories. Hamish was able to move freely, he had perfect control of his limbs and his speech had not been affected. The only thing that had been affected was his memory and Hamish had deleted his daddy.

Hamish couldn't remember his father Sherlock was dead.

Jane didn't realise the tears falling down her face when she saw a man sitting across her, taking the opposite chair and placing two cups of coffee on the table; one close to her and one next to him.

The man was tall and had dark, wild curly hair. His skin was pale, slightly tanned and his eyes were deep blue.

This man was smiling at her and at her baby in her lap.

This man had one of the loveliest smiles Jane had ever seen.

This man had maybe one of the _hopeful_ smiles Jane had ever seen since Sherlock's.

"Was this seat taken?"

Jane blinked once, twice. Then, she wiped the tears off her face and tried to fake a smile. But she couldn't.

"Err, sorry - no. No."

The man produced a soft handkerchief off his jacket pocket and handed it to Jane while learning forward to caressed Sherlock's pink cheeks. The baby looked at the strange man, but seconds afterwards he leaned close to his touch.

"Thank you."

The strange man smiled. "Are you alone?"

"Yes, I'm... I'm waiting to see my son."

"Oh. Is he okay?"

Jane shook her head while she pressed the handkerchief to her eyes. "He's just awaken from a coma."

The man nodded. "How old is he?"

"He's four. Will turn five soon."

Something about this man... there was something strange about him.

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay."

The man smiled at Sherlock who was trying to lean forward to the man sitting across them. "Hey you, what's your name poppet?"

"Mish!"

"Mish?"

Jane curled her lips awards, just slightly. "That's his brother's name - Hamish. This is Sherlock."

"Sherlock?" asked the man with a honest, genuine smile on his face. "What a lovely name. Hello, Sherlock. What's your mummy's name?"

Sherlock giggled. "Muuhhhh!"

Jane giggled. Sherlock was a very funny baby and for the first time in days Jane giggled.

The man smiled back.

"I'm Jane. Jane Watson," said Jane.

The man offered his hand and Jane shook it. "Dr. Matthew Morstan. Nice to meet you, Jane."

There was something within Jane that made her heart beat faster inside her chest.

Her heart beat faster _again_ for the first time in a year.


	7. Hopeful Eyes

_"When people die they become Angels. So when you were sleeping your daddy came here to see you and to fix you."_

* * *

"Nice to meet you, Doctor."

Dr Morstan smiled. "Call me Matthew, please."

"Thanks for the coffee."

Matthew smiled widely this time as he held baby Sherlock's little hands. "May I?"

Jane nodded and handed Sherlock to him.

Baby Sherlock was a very special baby. He liked to be held and sit on people's laps - but only if they were his mummy, Nan Hudson or Grandpa Greg, or Nan Lizzie or Grandpa Richard - Sherlock liked very few people. Mycroft was not included on that group. Certainly, baby Sherlock was not so fond of his uncle, and every time Mycroft was close, or when he tried to hold him in her arms, baby Sherlock cried non stop.

However, once Sherlock was sitting on Dr Morstan's lap he giggled and clapped his hands together. Sherlock smiled widely, and it was obvious he liked this man they had just met.

"You're a very nice lad," said Dr Morstan whilst caressing Sherlock's cheeks. "Hmm, it looks like someone's got a fever."

Jane got to her feet and pressed a hand to Sherlock's forehead. "What? Oh God, no."

"Don't worry. He only needs to have a nice bath and a good night sleep."

"No," said Jane worriedly. "He might have caught something here - God, I knew I shouldn't have brought him -"

"No, he's fine. It's just a simple fever. He just needs to sleep," explained Dr Morstan softly.

Jane sunk into the chair and shook her head tiredly. "I'll never be a good mother. Because of me my son almost died - and now Sherlock, God."

"Hey, don't say that. What happened to your son?"

"A few weeks ago he started feeling bad. He'd a fever but the next day he was fine, I _swear_ he was fine. He wanted to go to school and I was starting my practices here so I... I just dropped him at school without caring and he had a cardiac arrest. I should have taken more care of him," explained Jane when heavy tears rolled down her pale face. "I was so focused on uni and my stupid life that I neglected them - my _own_ children."

Dr Matthew Morstan, who so far had been sitting across Jane, got to his feet and occupied the seat next to her. Seeing Jane, such a lovely woman with a baby in her arms, alone, and crying, he was unsure of what to do, so he placed an arm around her shoulders.

Baby Sherlock, who was witnessing the scene yawned widely and fell asleep in his mother's arms.

"I'm sure he'll be okay," whispered he.

"He can't remember some things. And he hates me," said Jane between sobs. "I don't know what I'll do."

Dr Morstan took baby Sherlock off Jane's arms and placed him on his pram. "What is what he can't remember?"

Jane wiped the tears off her face and looked at Sherlock's sleeping form on the pram. "Their father."

"But..." Dr Morstan shrugged. "How can Hamish forget his father -"

"He died."

"I'm sorry."

Doctor Morstan understood why Jane was alone and why she was blaming herself for her son's poor health. He felt sad for her because he knew what was to be alone and what was to lose everything - to lose someone as important as a partner. He inwardly knew Jane's son was fine and that he was going to be healthy again, but Doctor Morstan knew what was losing not only a partner but a child. A whole family.

The pain is always unbearable. Even more when you are alone.

Jane shook her head. "He thinks his father is... he can't remember he died."

"Things like this happen, Jane. Cardiac arrest survivors usually suffer from memory loss."

"I know."

Dr Morstan placed a warm hand over Jane's and caressed her knuckles with his thumb. Jane looked at him, at his eyes. Dr Matthew Morstan had very deep, hopeful eyes. Something in his eyes made Jane feel calm, even when she felt a chaos inside her.

Those eyes were like blue, deep, honest lakes in which Jane wanted to sunk in and stay there for ever.

When Jane looked at Dr Matthew Mostan's eyes, she felt as if he could look into her soul.

"Take me there. I'd like to see him."

* * *

Doctor Morstan told Jane he was a paediatrician and that he had just returned from a medical conference in Berlin. He asked Jane several questions about Hamish's case, about the cardiac arrest and about the comatose state Hamish had been in. Jane told him everything she knew and about Hamish's health in the past. Jane told Doctor Morstan everything; that Hamish had been a premature baby, about his heart attack after he was born and how and why Hamish suffered a cardiac arrest.

However, Jane never told Dr Morstan the reasons why Hamish had been a premature baby and why he had that heart attack.

"Dr Morstan, you don't really need to."

He smiled at her. "I really want to see him. Besides, I'm going to be his doctor and I want to help him."

"Thank you so much, Doctor -"

"Please, Jane. Call me Matthew," said he with a reassuring, hopeful smile when they ran into one of the doctors that had been checking on Hamish since the cardiac arrest episode.

"Ah, Doctor Morstan, welcome back," said one of Hamish's doctors. "I see you've met Miss Watson."

Dr Morstan nodded. "I'd like to see Hamish."

"But you're not starting until tomorrow."

"I know, but as I told Jane, I'd like to see him now."

Once Dr Morstan was inside the room, he noticed Hamish was wide awake. Behind him was Jane pushing Sherlock's pram softly.

Dr Morstan noticed Hamish looked a lot like Jane, but he didn't look like his little brother Sherlock. The only features they shared were their curly hair, though Hamish's was golden, almost sandy and Sherlock's hair was very dark. And they had the very same blue eyes and cheeks.

"Hello Hamish. How are you feeling?" asked Jane, sitting next to him and caressing her son's fair curls.

Hamish looked away and didn't say anything.

Jane felt like crying. But she preferred to ignore his son's anger. "This is Doctor Morstan. He'll be your new doctor. Say hello to him, love."

Dr Morstan looked at Jane. He knew it hurt her.

And he wished he could do something to stop the pain.

Nothing.

"Hamish?"

Nothing.

Doctor Morstan cleared his throat and stood next to Hamish on the other side of the bed, across Jane who was sitting next to her son. "Hello Hamish. How are you feeling tonight, buddy?"

Nothing.

"A little birdie told me you like football, is that true?"

Hamish looked at the doctor and nodded.

"I like football too. Would you like to go and play with me someday? I don't have too many friends to play with."

Hamish didn't reply immediately, he only stared at the doctor standing next to him and then nodded. "Yes."

"Good! How are you feeling then?"

Nothing.

"Hamish, if you want to play football you'll have to tell me how you are feeling. Because you want to go home, don't you?" asked Dr Morstan with a smile.

Hamish nodded eagerly. "Yes! I wanna go home!"

"But you won't be able to go home until we know you're feeling better and that your heart is working properly again."

"My head hurts," admitted Hamish. "And my tummy too."

Doctor Morstan nodded. "That's okay. I'll give you some medicines so the pain goes away, is that okay?"

Hamish nodded.

A few minutes later afterwards Hamish had been given some special medicines, the little boy insisted on seeing his daddy.

"I wanna go home with daddy."

Jane kissed Hamish's forehead. "Daddy's dead. He's in heaven, remember?"

"But he was 'ere!"

Jane tried to make Hamish feel calm again, but Hamish wouldn't stop crying and asking for his daddy.

"You know Hamish, what happened to your heart made you sleep for a long time and that made you forget things," explained Dr Morstan softly. "Here in your brain," Dr Morstan pointed at his head. "is a place where we 'store' all the things we know."

Hamish didn't say anything, but his crying eyes were still focused on Dr Morstan.

"And our brain has so many compartments, so many that sometimes we forget things."

"Really?"

"Yes. That's why you forgot your daddy died," said Dr Morstan with a nod and then he looked into Hamish's crying eyes. "You know, my daddy died when I was a little boy like you."

"Why?"

"Because he was ill."

"Daddy was 'ere."

Dr Morstan smiled. "Your daddy is dead, Hamish. But you're right, he was here."

"How come?"

"Because when people die they become Angels. So when you were sleeping he came here to see you and to fix you."

Hamish turned to his mummy and buried his head into her chest. He cried in his mother's arms for long minutes.

And Jane realised Hamish had understood.

"Thank you," whispered Jane.

Dr Morstan only smiled. He was so happy to help. That was one of the main reasons why he had chosen to become a doctor and help children. He had never been able to see a child suffering.

When Dr Morstan met Jane, it was easy for him to understand her feelings. Dr Matthew Morstan knew what the pain feels like. So he decided he was going to do all within his power, and beyond, to fix Hamish's heart.

And why not, Jane's.

* * *

Hamish was still in hospital when he turned five. That day all his four grandparents Nan Lizzie, Grandpa Richard, Nan Hudson and Grandpa Greg were there and they gave him lovely presents such as new toys and clothes. Even his uncle Mycroft was there and he gave him a box with a chess game with the promise he was going to teach him how to play.

Jane gave Hamish a book with pictures of animals of every kind, such as cats, dogs, elephants, gorillas and horses. Everyone ate the cake Mrs Hudson had baked, even some nurses and doctors and Hamish, who was allowed to eat just a bit.

"Thank you, mummy," said Hamish and hugged Jane.

The road to recovery was not easy; there were days in which Hamish would have his mental breakdowns and there were days in which he wouldn't speak at all, but there were also days when he liked his mummy to read him stories and play with his baby brother Sherlock.

It was a very nice day and for a moment everyone forgot what had happened to Hamish weeks ago.

"Happy birthday, Hamish. Hope you like it," said Dr Morstan giving Hamish a present.

"Thank you!"

Hamish tore the paper and smiled as soon as he opened his present. It was football ball.

"D'you like it?"

"Yes! Can we play now?"

Doctor Morstan shook his head. "Not yet. But I promise we'll go to the park and play soon!"

Jane smiled. "You didn't need to, Doctor."

"Please, Jane. For the last time, call me Matthew!"

Jane blushed.

Despite being Dr Morstan's day off, he had gone to visit Hamish since it was his birthday and to tell Jane the good news: Hamish was going to be able to leave hospital soon. Just in a couple of days.

They had become sort of friends now, Dr Morstan and Jane. Some mornings Dr Morstan bought coffee for them whilst Jane would bring sponge cake or cookies she had baked herself. Some other days they would have lunch together at the cafeteria and Dr Matthew Morstan became baby Sherlock's doctor as well. Both Sherlock and Hamish became very fond of the pediatrician, specially Sherlock.

"Matthew, I..." Jane smiled. "I wanted to thank you for all your help. You saved my son."

Dr Morstan took Jane's hand and caressed her knuckles with his thumb. "You don't need to thank me, Jane. It was a pleasure to help you."

From the other side of the room, Mycroft Holmes looked at the new doctor and Jane, his brother's wife, talking too close to each other.

The informants were saying the truth then. Jane Watson and Dr Matthew Morstan had developed a friendship since he became Hamish and Sherlock's doctor. They shared breakfast or lunch or cups of tea and countless hours together every time Jane visited Hamish at hospital. And there had not been any reports of Jane and Dr Morstan meeting outside Bart's.

It was, so far, a mere friendship.

Mycroft Holmes knew everything he needed to know about this paediatrician; about his past and his present, about his studies, everything. Mycroft knew this man was a good influence to his nephews - Dr Morstan was indeed a good doctor, a very good, competent one.

But Mycroft was not sure about the influence Doctor Matthew Morstan could have over Jane Watson.

Mycroft twisted his mouth.

He didn't like this.

* * *

"Are you ready to go home, poppet?" asked Jane whilst finishing dressing Hamish and putting his clothes into a bag.

Hamish nodded eagerly. "Yes!"

"I'll miss you, you know," said Doctor Morstan kissing Hamish's forehead. "You have been very, very brave."

Sherlock, who could walk by now, though a bit clumsily, got close to Dr Morstan and curled his little fingers around the soft material of the doctor's trousers. "Mmmmhhhh!"

"I'll miss you too, Locky," sad the doctor taking baby Sherlock in his arms.

"You promised we will go to the park and play."

Dr Morstan nodded. "You have to ask your mummy first."

"Of course you can go," said Jane with a smile.

Hamish got close to Jane. "Mummy... can Dr Morstan come 'ome?" Hamish tried to whisper, but everyone in the room heard him, even his uncle Mycroft who had gone with Jane so then he could take them back to Baker Street safely.

Mycroft frowned at Hamish's request.

Jane smiled at her son and then turned to Doctor Morstan.

"Err, would you like to come and have dinner with us one of these days?" asked Jane, with a red blush on her cheeks. "The boys would love it... but if you're busy -"

Dr Morstan nodded. "Of course I'd love to."

"I am deeply sorry to interrupt, but the car is waiting and I need to go to the office. There are matters I need to take care of," said Mycroft, clearing his throat.

"Oh yes, sorry Mycroft."

Jane didn't notice Mycroft's tone.

Hamish kissed Doctor Morstan cheek, so did baby Sherlock. "Bye Doctor Morstan!"

"Good bye, Matthew."

Dr Morstan kissed Jane's cheek. It was a soft, warm kiss. It was the kind of kiss Jane had not had for more than a year.

It was the kind of kiss Jane had been craving for for so long.

"You've got my number. If you need anything... just, you know... call me," said he, softly.

"I will."


	8. Brithday, Balloons and a Kiss

_Mycroft's main worry was his brother._

_Because if Sherlock continued being 'dead' for more time than necessary, once he had returned, Jane wouldn't be alone ad waiting for him anymore._

* * *

**_Would you like to have lunch with me? MM_ ** _**  
** _

_**Sure. At Bart's cafeteria? JW  
** _

_**Meet me at the restaurant down the road. MM** _

* * *

"Hello, Jane! How are you? Thanks for coming," said Matthew kissing Jane's cheek. Then, he knelt to look at baby Sherlock who was sitting on his pram. "Hello Locky!"

Baby Sherlock only smiled.

Matthew gave Jane a small bouquet of white roses. They looked so nice, tied with a pink ribbon and their smell was so sweet - almost charming. The smile on Matthew's face was wide and Jane smiled as well. It had been long since someone had given her flowers and this made Jane feel special.

Jane took the bouquet of roses and when she inhaled their scent with her eyes closed, she felt something inside her - it was something she hadn't felt before, or at least not in a very long time.

Jane felt butterflies in her stomach.

It was a feeling as close as the one she had years ago when she realised she was in love with _him_ \- with her children's father.

With Sherlock.

"These are lovely."

This made Matthew smile even more. And suddenly he turned bright red, from head to toes and he was conscious Jane noticed the red shadow on his cheeks. "Really? I - I wasn't sure if you would like them."

Jane shook her head. "I _love_ them, Matthew. Thanks. You shouldn't have."

"You deserve more," said Matthew, softly but as soon as he felt Jane's blue eyes on him he looked away and cleared his throat. "You're calling my by my name," said he, helping Jane with her chair and then placing baby Sherlock on a high chair previously provided by the restaurant waitress.

"Because we're friends, aren't we?"

Matthew smiled.

And Jane felt like a teenager all over again.

For days and days after Hamish had been discharged from hospital Jane and Dr Matthew Morstan sent text messages to each other every day. In most of them Matthew always asked for the boys and in most of them Jane would talk about them and how Hamish was improving his health and dealing with his medications. But Matthew always asked for the boys, for Hamish and for Sherlock because he didn't have the courage to ask Jane how she was, if she wanted to go out with him, if she felt lonely or sad. If she needed some company. And Jane didn't have the courage to ask the same - to ask for an afternoon with his company, with his friendship and with some cups of tea in between.

During the time Hamish had been in hospital, Jane and Matthew would share countless hours drinking tea or coffee with Jane's home made cookies and cakes. Matthew always praised Jane's cooking skills. And Jane always praised Matthew's tea. They talked about Bart's, about uni and medical procedures. Jane sometimes asked countless questions about anatomy, medicines and how to deal with patients. And Matthew always answered her questions and even lent her some books.

Sometimes, in her lonely nights, Jane thought how they liked the same things, how alike they were.

And how a good man Dr Matthew Morstan was.

"Of course we are," said he with a smile. "Hamish?"

"He's at school. I've to pick him up later."

"Is he okay? Is he taking his medications?"

"Yes," said Jane. "He's getting used to them."

A young waitress walked to their table and handed them the menus. "Hello. Here you have your menus. May I suggest some Italian pasta? I'm sure you and your wife will find it delicious."

Dr Morstan smiled at Jane. He was furiously blushing. "No, she's not my wife - um... it's okay we'll just -"

"We'll just take a look at it and we'll -"

"Yes, we'll let you know when we are ready to order," finished Matthew and the waitress left the table.

There was a long, awkward silence in which neither of them, Jane or Matthew, said a word.

"I think I'll have that pasta she suggested," said Jane.

"Yeah, me too."

Since the moment they let the waitress know what they wanted and until their food got to their table they talked about Hamish, about his recovery process, about Locky and about the weather when Matthew asked Jane about herself.

"Are you going to uni?"

"No, I..." Jane looked at Sherlock, not being able to meet Mathew's eyes. "I dropped out."

"What? Why? But you were finishing your third year!"

Jane nodded, sadly. "I know but I have to take care of them."

"But you said your landlady and your mother-in-law were taking care of Sherlock when you went to uni and Hamish was at school -"

"Yes. But last time I left them Hamish had a cardiac arrest," said Jane miserably. "They need me."

Matthew moved his hand further over the table until he was touching Jane's hand. He caressed her knuckles with his thumb. He looked at her with his eyes, with those deep eyes Jane knew could look into her soul. Matthew Morstan's eyes were so deep, so honest, so hopeful that Jane, for a moment, didn't want to look at any other pair of eyes any time soon.

Matthew's eyes gave her the peace she needed.

"You're brilliant Jane. Dr Marshall won't stop talking about you."

Jane looked for some money on her purse and got ready to leave. "I'm sorry. I've got to pick up Hamish -"

"No, the lunch's on me."

"I can't let you pay," said Jane stubbornly, placing some notes on the table.

But Matthew handed the money back. "Please."

Jane curled her lips upwards on a tiny smile.

"You've got potential, Jane. I know you'll be a brilliant doctor."

Jane placed baby Sherlock on his pram. "Thanks for the lunch, Matthew."

* * *

"A big party will be the best. I'll hire clowns, a magician - oh, and we need to talk about the cake -"

Jane let out a long sigh. Elizabeth Holmes was trying to persuade her to let her organise Sherlock's first birthday party that, according to her, was to be held at her big house with a pompous cake and lots of food, a professional clown, a magician to entertain the kids, colorful balloons everywhere... And there was Mrs Hudson as well, saying they didn't need to spend that amount of money, that she could bake a cake and prepare the food, that the kids didn't need a magician or a clown and why hiring so many people when it was going to be a simple birthday party for a baby?

"I think a little party here will be better," said Jane, firmly. "Hamish doesn't like clowns, nor Sherlock. Mrs Hudson can bake the cake, I'll prepare some food and that's all."

Elizabeth frowned. "But -"

"Elizabeth, I know you like these kind of things, but I think a little party will be better. Besides, there won't be too many guests; just you and Richard, Mrs Hudson and Greg obviously and Mycroft."

"It's Sherlock's first birthday party!" complained Elizabeth Holmes.

Jane knew his ex mother-in-law liked big things and specially when it was about her grandchildren and Jane appreciated her help and all her offers, but she knew her children didn't need all those extravagant things - Jane wanted both of her children to be modest kids and live a normal life, even when they had inherited lots of money and several properties around the world after their father had died.

But finally they had agreed the party was to be held at Baker Street with no clowns, no magicians, no big cake and just family.

That night Jane had finally put Hamish on bed and baby Sherlock on his cot when she thought of Doctor Matthew Morstan. It had been days since they last talked to each other or sent any texts. Jane was unsure, but she knew the children wanted Matthew to come to the birthday party. Hamish had asked her to invite him and Jane told him he was probably going to be busy.

And after hours and hours thinking about it, Jane decided to text him.

_**It's Locky's birthday party this Friday. Would you like to come? JW** _

He replied almost immediately, and Jane smiled when she read his answer.

_**Of course. MM** _

* * *

"Happy birthday, Locky!" said Jane, hugging her baby very tightly. "I love you so much, baby. You've grown so much!"

Baby Sherlock giggled as soon as he felt his mummy's thin but soft lips pressing kisses to his cheeks, his forehead, his temples, everywhere. His big brother kissed him as well and hugged him tightly.

"Happy birthday, Locky!"

Hamish planted a kiss on his little brother's forehead and then turned to his mummy. "Can we give him his presents now?"

"No. He'll have to wait until everyone comes."

The guests had been asked to go for lunch time, so Jane sat each of her children on the two armchairs in the living room while she cleaned the floors and checked everything was clean for the party. Baby Sherlock was sitting on his daddy's old armchair and Hamish on Jane's. The latter was watching telly when baby Sherlock looked up to the mantelpiece and spotted a picture of a man with dark curls and gray eyes smiling. This man had an arm around his mummy's waist and he was wearing a dark suit. His mummy was wearing a white dress and she was holding flowers.

That man and his mummy looked happy.

Baby Sherlock was able to distinguish between a smile and a frown. He knew when people smiled it meant they were happy.

His mummy and that man were smiling - _they were happy_.

Sherlock had never seen that man. Or at least he didn't remember if he ever had. But Sherlock could remember that man was the same one present in all those pictures Hamish liked to show him. Baby Sherlock liked to listen to his big brother talking about someone he always called 'daddy'. It seemed that that man who Hamish always called 'daddy' was nice and a very good man.

Baby Sherlock was looking at the picture of Jane and Sherlock, taken the day of their wedding.

"Da... dahhhh!"

"What is it, Locky?" asked Hamish, sitting next to his baby brother.

Locky patted Hamish's arm and pointed at the picture on the mantelpiece. "Mish mish!"

"What is it?"

"Mish!" Sherlock pointed at the picture again until Hamish saw what Sherlock was talking about.

Hamish's eyes lit up. "Daddy Sherlock?"

Baby Sherlock looked confused.

"Mummy, Locky looks weird."

Jane, who had just finished cleaning went to the living room to check on her sons. "Why weird? What's he doing?"

"Daaaa!" mumbled Sherlock.

Jane smiled. "I think he's trying to say something."

"I wanna Locky to talk!"

"He'll do it soon."

"But when?" asked Hamish.

"I don't know," Jane shrugged. "When he feels like talking I suppose."

Hamish sat next to Jane and rested his head on her lap. "Is Doctor Morstan coming today?"

"Yes."

"Is he goin' to listen to my heart again?"

Jane kissed her son's fair curls. "Yes."

"Why? He's always listenin' to my heart. And Locky's too."

"Because he wants to be sure you are healthy," explained Jane.

"And yours, mummy?"

Jane decided to ignore that last question. "Big poppet and little poppet go to the bathroom. Time to have a bath!"

* * *

It was lunch time and the guests were going to arrive soon and Hamish and baby Sherlock were impeccably dressed. Both children were wearing blue dark jeans and their favourite trainers; Hamish's were blue and Sherlock's were red. Both were wearing a white tee and the knitted jumpers their grandmothers had knitted for them; Hamish's was blue (knitted by Mrs Hudson) and Sherlock's was green (knitted by Elizabeth).

Jane was wearing a short sleeved shirt, a light blue knee length skirt and a pair of flat shoes. Her hair, which was long now, was combed it to one side.

"But mummy, I wanna wear daddy's scarf!"

"No, Hamish," said Jane, taking the scarf off Hamish's hand and placing it on the boy's bed. "Besides, today is a sunny day. Why you want to wear a scarf?"

"I wanna wear it 'cause it was daddy's."

Jane smiled. "Okay, you can wear it if you want. It's yours. But, tell me how do I look?"

Hamish giggled and pressed a kiss to his mummy's cheek. "You look pretty."

The first guests arriving were Mr and Mrs Holmes and Mycroft. Both Elizabeth and Richard placed their gifts on the living room table and pressed kisses to their grandson. Elizabeth couldn't stop mentioning how Locky reminded her of Sherlock when he was his age. Richard even told old stories of Sherlock walking his first steps and getting himself hurt after trying to walk all around the house following Mycroft's steps.

"He was stubborn. Since he was a mere infant until he reached his adulthood," said Mycroft.

Jane smiled. Talking about Sherlock didn't hurt her anymore. She used to cry thinking of him and of the times they had, the times they shared together. But it had been more than a year now. Sherlock had gone more than a year ago and Jane felt she had the right to smile and not to cry anymore.

And it was her youngest son's birthday and she was not going to cry.

"I think he was stubborn until his last days," said Jane. "He almost burned his fingers doing an experiment."

Everyone, even Mycroft, laughed at that.

Later Mrs Hudson and Greg joined the party and helped Jane with the food while Richard and Elizabeth played with their grandchildren in the living room.

Greg was again single because apparently his girlfriend wanted him to choose between her and his job.

"And what did you say?"

Greg chuckled. "What d'you think?"

"No."

"What else should I have done? I need my job."

Jane rolled her eyes. "Anyway, she wasn't a good woman."

The food was ready when the doorbell rang. Mrs Hudson was going to open the door when Jane said she would do it.

"It's okay, I'll go."

When Jane opened the door she saw Doctor Morstan carrying a big box wrapped with blue shiny paper, a bunch of white flowers and two printed balloons. "Hello. Am I late?"

Jane smiled at him. "Not at all. Come in."

Matthew handed Jane the flowers as soon as he got inside. "These are for you."

"These are the prettiest flowers I've ever seen, thank you."

There was a pink blush on Matthew's cheeks.

"Let me help you with your coat," said Jane, helping Matthew to take off his coat when their fingers brushed.

They were standing only a few inches from each other when Matthew looked down at Jane's blue eyes. "You look beautiful," said he, and it was only a mere whisper.

Jane looked up at him and smiled. Soon she was blushing as well and their height difference was not helping at all. Matthew was taller than Jane, very tall. He was as tall as Sherlock had been, maybe a bit more.

"You look great too," whispered Jane, allowing her fingers to travel on the soft material of Matthew's dark jacket. He was wearing a light blue shirt, a dark jacket and a pair of black tailored, narrow trousers. "Thanks for coming."

"Jane, I -"

Matthew was holding Jane's hand when from the stairs, Mycroft cleared his throat, clearly something done on purpose to make himself noticeable.

"Jane - oh, Dr Morstan. Nice to see you again."

Matthew took two steps backwards. "Mr Holmes -"

"Jane, Mrs Hudson has already settled the table in the living room," said Mycroft, cutting Matthew off and looking straight into Jane's eyes.

Jane led Matthew upstairs where everyone was already sitting on the table and waiting for Jane. Everyone was surprised to see Doctor Morstan in Sherlock's birthday - everyone but Mycroft. Everyone knew Dr Morstan was fond of Sherlock and Hamish. But not everyone knew Doctor Morstan was also very fond of Jane Watson. Only Mycroft knew that.

"Nice to see you, Doctor. Jane didn't tell us you were coming," said Richard shaking Matthew's hand.

Matthew smiled nervously. "I -"

"I wanted it to be a surprise for the boys," said Jane cutting Matthew off. "Locky, look who has come to your party!"

As soon as Locky saw his Doctor Morstan he smiled widely and ran to his arms. Matthew lifted Sherlock high on the air and pressed a soft kiss to the boy's dark curls. "Happy birthday, little poppet!"

"Maaah!"

Jane smiled. "I think he's trying to say your name."

"Can you say 'Matthew', Locky?"

Locky smiled at his doctor. "Maaah!"

Mycroft was silently looking at the situation; at Matthew holding Sherlock, his youngest nephew who seemed more than happy to be in the doctor's presence. Hamish was also happy to see him. He got close to his doctor and even sat next to him on the table.

Even Jane seemed to be more than happy now that this man was in the flat.

The lunch went quite well. After the toast soon everyone chatted with everyone but there were different groups: Mycroft, Richard and DI Lestrade, all sitting together, found an interesting topic of conversation and soon the three men were deeply talking about terrorism, security process and politics. Mrs Hudson and Elizabeth talked about their knitting, their recipes and about how delicious the landlady's food was while Jane and Matthew were sitting together discussing Hamish's medications now that the boys were calmly playing upstairs in Hamish's room.

From the other end of the table, Mycroft Holmes was looking at Jane and Matthew Morstan talking closely. His deductive skills, the same deductive skills he shared with his brother were quite useful most of the times. And this time his deductive skills helped Mycroft to know Jane's bare legs were touching Matthew's under the table - not in purpose though. Or at least not in a seductive way.

Mycroft's deductive skills also helped him to see the boys liked Dr Morstan more than any child would like their paediatricians.

And finally Mycroft realised Doctor Matthew Morstan was a dangerous man. He was not dangerous to Jane or his nephews - Matthew Morstan was dangerous to Sherlock Holmes.

Matthew Morstan was interested in Jane Watson. It was obvious, quite obvious and Mycroft wanted to know if the smiles exchanged, the disguised touches and the nice words were obvious to the other ones as well because he seemed to be the only one worried about the fact that there was just a little distance between Jane and Doctor Morstan.

And Jane Watson was also interested in Doctor Morstan. It was obvious, quite obvious. Painfully obvious.

Mycroft feared for what could possibly happen in the future because apparently Jane had got over Sherlock's death. It had happened more than a year ago and Jane didn't cry anymore. Jane laughed when anyone mentioned Sherlock Holmes - she didn't cry. She continued visiting Sherlock's grave with the boys, but she didn't cry.

Mycroft's main worry was Sherlock, his brother. Because if Sherlock continued being dead for more time than necessary, once he returned, Jane wouldn't be alone and waiting for him anymore.

* * *

Baby Sherlock was sitting at the head of the table and in front of him was a nice cake with his name written on it with chocolate and a candle. In front of him everyone had gathered together to sang the happy birthday song for the birthday boy. Sherlock was very happy and next to him were Jane and Hamish - the only two people that were his family.

Mrs Hudson was the one in charge of taking some photographs, so she took several of Jane and Sherlock, Sherlock and Hamish, Jane and the boys together, and so on. And Matthew wasn't the exception. He held Sherlock in his arms and posed for one or two pictures.

And finally Sherlock was allowed to open his presents. As he was very little yet, Hamish helped him to tore the paper and reveal the gift to his baby brother.

Everyone gave Sherlock new toys, clothes, books and the last present opened was Matthew's. It was a big box and this time Jane had to help her children to open it to see what was inside.

It was a small tricycle.

It was blue and it had a little basket at the back.

Soon Hamish helped his baby brother to sit on it and pushed it around the living room.

"Be careful," said Matthew softly. "I know he's little yet, but kids grow up very fast."

Jane smiled at him. "Thank you, Matthew."

Everyone ate cake and drank tea. The little party continued and Jane showed the four grandparents a photo album she had made for the party. It had all the pictures she had taken to baby Sherlock since he was born up to now. And there were pictures of Hamish as well and pictures of them together.

However, soon it was late and the two boys had fallen asleep on the sofa.

The first one leaving was Greg who said he had to go to work and then Richard, Elizabeth and Mycroft.

Matthew was the last guest left when Mrs Hudson went downstairs to lie down and had another of her herbal shooters.

"Is it just me or Mycroft hates me?" asked Matthew jokingly when Jane finished washing the cups.

Jane sat in front of him, on the dark armchair and smiled. "Mycroft is... he likes to scare people. But don't worry."

"What does he do? If you don't me asking."

"He occupies what he likes to call a 'minor position in the British Government'," explained Jane. "But he's more than that."

There was a long, awkward silence between them until Jane got to her feet and caressed Hamish's soft curls. "Hamish, come on. Let's go to your room."

Hamish said bye to his doctor and Jane went upstairs with her son to put him into bed.

Matthew sat on the sofa next to Sherlock's calm sleeping form when the little boy woke up. When Sherlock's eyes focused on his doctor, he crawled on the sofa until he was leaning against Matthew's arm.

Dr Morstan smiled fondly to the sleepy boy and lifted in his arms. Locky was curled in his doctor's arms when he yawned widely.

Matthew had always liked children. He could not remember a moment in which he didn't like babies and children - that had been one of the main reasons why he had chosen to become a paediatrician. And because he couldn't stand seeing a kid suffering or being in pain.

Matthew got to his feet and walked to the mantelpiece carrying Locky in his arms. Soon his eyes focused on the pictures there; there were three. In the first one was Hamish laughing. The picture had been taken when he was little - probably one or two years ago. Matthew knew Hamish had been a very lovely boy and indeed he had been.

In the second picture was Jane, sitting on a chair on what looked like a big, wide garden. She was wearing a blue dress and she was pregnant. Jane looked very young, almost childlike and Matthew knew Jane had had Hamish just before turning eighteen. Her hair was long and her cheeks were rounder - and to Matthew, she looked beautiful. Matthew deduced it was taken when Jane was pregnant and expecting Hamish and the smile in her face was sweet, hopeful.

Matthew wondered if that picture had been taken by Jane's dead husband.

He had never asked Jane what happened to her husband and Jane never told him either. Matthew thought maybe he had been ill or maybe it had been an accident. He was curious, very curious but he never dare to ask. The only things he knew about him was that he was very tall, had dark curls and that he died because his heart was ill because that's what Hamish had told him once.

So when Matthew looked at the last picture on the mantelpiece he couldn't help but take it and take a close look at it. Jane's husband was very young, probably as young as Jane was. He had dark curls, pale skin, high cheekbones and grey eyes - Locky, the boy he was carrying in his arms was the carbon copy of his father.

This man was smiling and he looked so happy. And Matthew knew anyone could have been that happy if they had the woman this man had next to him. Jane looked beautiful. She was wearing a white, sleeveless dress. The tips of her fair hair were curled and she was wearing make up as well. Matthew's eyes focused on her and not on her dead husband anymore.

Matthew didn't notice Locky was looking at the picture too when he pointed at it with his index finger.

"Daddy."

The doctor looked at him. "What did you say?"

"Daddy!"

Matthew smiled. "Yes, that's your daddy."

"I'm going to take Locky to -"

Jane froze when she found Matthew holding Locky in his arms and his son saying his first word.

"Daddy, daddy, daddy!"

It was amazing. It was unbelievable. Locky had never met his father - he had never met Sherlock. And yet there he was, pointing at the picture using his index finger. "Daddy!"

Jane smiled at him and then at Matthew. There were some tears in her eyes when Matthew handed Locky to her. Jane sat on her armchair and cuddled her son softly as she pressed kisses to Locky's dark curls. "Yes, Locky, that's your daddy."

As soon as Locky was asleep in her arms, Jane went to her room where she placed him on his cot.

On the doorway was Matthew. Jane turned and smiled at him. She extended his arm and Matthew walked until he was standing next to her and close to Sherlock's cot when he held her hand and then both entangled their fingers.

In silence, both stood next to each other in front of Locky's cot until Jane leaned close to him and rested her head on his shoulder. Matthew placed an arm around her waist and Jane did the same, pressing her left arm over his stomach, finally filling in the space between them.

"Thank you," whispered Jane.

Matthew kissed her forehead when Jane looked up so their lips could meet.


	9. Bitter Sweet Symphony

_"Jane, I think we should stop seeing each other."_

_"You're married, aren't you?"_

_Mathew didn't say a word._

_"I knew it," admitted Jane._

* * *

Their first kiss was soft, sweet, tender. There weren't enough adjectives to describe their first kiss and how it made them feel - how good it was to feel each other lips. How good was to feel their bodies close. How good was to feel their hearts beating in unison, together, sharing one same rhythm.

That night Matthew Morstan went to bed unable to close his eyes and conceive any sleep. He kept on pressing his fingertips to his lips, still feeling that burning, sweet, soft sensation Jane had left on them. Her lips tasted like tea and cake. Matthew could still feel Jane thin lips on his, kissing him, getting close and close to him with every kiss - every time Jane pressed her lips to his, every time she tried to deepen the kiss Matthew felt more and more in love with Jane Watson.

He could still feel her small but soft hands on his neck almost burning his skin. And his heart. When Jane deepened their kiss and pressed her chest to his Matthew felt her heart beating fast. And that made Matthew Morstan wonder if Jane Watson loved him as much as he loved her. If Jane felt what he felt.

Matthew was lying on his own bed. It was still late and he knew he had to sleep because he had to go to work in just a few hours. But Jane's lips were still keeping him awake, as the memories of the party; Jane's legs touching his, her laughter, her scent, her perfume, her soft hands and the children - Matthew loved those boys. Locky and Hamish were special, very lovely, sweet, so pure, honest and good hearted boys.

The doctor felt the golden ring heavy on the fourth finger of his left hand. Looking at the picture of his family on his bedside table, at the smiling face of his wife and his children, Matthew asked himself what he was doing.

Because suddenly, everything felt as if it had been a terrible mistake.

* * *

 

When Jane was finally on her bed, she closed her eyes and pressed her fingertips to her lips. Matthew's lips had left a sweet taste - a very sweet taste on hers.

This made Jane remember the last time she had been kissed.

_"I wanted to kiss you."_

_Jane looked into his eyes. "Hmm?"_

_"At the prom party," explained Sherlock. "I wanted to kiss you."_

_Jane pressed soft kisses to Sherlock's neck. "Really?_

_"Yes," whispered Sherlock._

_"Kiss me, Sherlock."_

It had been more than a year since she had last been kissed and the last time she kissed someone. Despite the kiss she and Matthew had was a bit clumsy, Matthew made it better. His hands were soft, warm on her waist and his strong, big body embracing her made her feel safe - Jane felt safe again. Again after more than a year. For a moment Jane thought they had been made for each other; Matthew liked her, he was always praising her cooking skills, he was always encouraging her to go back to uni and become a doctor and he liked Hamish and Sherlock. Matthew was offering her the peace and stability she needed and he wanted to protect her - and that's exactly what Jane needed.

The fact that Matthew loved her children and that they loved him as well was what told Jane this man, Doctor Morstan, was meant to be in her life. Both boys had become very fond of the paediatrician and Jane knew Matthew liked them genuinely. The doctor was helping Hamish to overcome his developmental delay, though Hamish will always be a step back from other children, with the help of Matthew Hamish was improving lots. And Sherlock was clinging to Matthew far too much. Maybe it was something she had to correct or try to make it stop because Locky would sometimes cry if Matthew didn't hold him in his arms or played with him as well.

However, when Jane tossed to face the empty side of the bed, Sherlock's old side of the bed, Jane realised she didn't know what she was doing. Sherlock had died more than a year ago and she wasn't crying anymore. Not like she didn't miss him, because Jane missed him dearly. She wished Sherlock had never died and that he could be with her there, next to her on their big bed, and that he had met their baby. But Sherlock died, he was not there with her and Jane was alone. Her wedding ring was inside a box and not on her fourth finger anymore.

Jane wasn't trying to replace Sherlock because no one could possibly replace him. Sherlock would always be the love of her life, the father of her children and the man she had loved with all her heart until the last moment. Jane believed in Sherlock and she knew he had never told her a lie. James Moriarty existed and she still couldn't understand why he had to die - why he had to commit suicide and leave her and their children alone.

Jane only wanted to find peace, love and the heart she had lost the day Sherlock died. Because the day Sherlock died, he not only took his life but Jane's as well. And if she had continued living her life it was because of their children, for the children that Sherlock left.

But now Matthew was giving her hopes.

Jane couldn't believe her luck. Because she had found a man who liked her and her children and it was something Jane thought she would never find. And something told her she had far too much luck. Far too much to believe this was real and that Matthew really liked her and wanted to be something more than her friend.

* * *

 

The following Monday after Locky's birthday Jane went back to uni. She had to do a lot of paperwork but at the end she could join some classes and get all the material she had missed after spending some months taking care of Hamish after the cardiac arrest episode. So after taking Hamish to school and leaving Locky with Mrs Hudson, Jane was back to uni.

"You'd missed almost one semester, Miss Watson," said Dr Marshall while taking a look at Jane's paperwork. "You can join my class and do your best to catch up with everything they had read and done. Or you can lose the semester and start it all over again."

"I'd like to join the class. I know if I work hard I'll be able to catch up with everything and take the exams soon."

The doctor nodded. "It's a lot, I'm warning you."

"I know."

"You won't give up, won't you?"

Jane smiled. "Of course not."

The doctor and teacher signed the papers that allowed Jane to join the different classes and to take the exams she had missed. Now Jane knew she will have to work very, but very hard and read lots to get herself ready to take the exams she had missed and the ones to come soon. The semester was going to finish soon and she knew the exams were difficult.

But Jane wanted to do it for her children, to make them feel proud of her.

And inwardly, very deep inside her, Matthew's words had helped her to take the decision. She knew she had potential and that she could be very brilliant in the future. She loved medicine and she wanted to help people and do something for them and becoming a doctor had always been her dream, since she was a very little girl.

_"You've got potential, Jane. I know you'll be a brilliant doctor."_

"You'd better come and work with me. I'd never seen a student as young as you are working hard. You saved that man's heart, remember?"

Jane's eyes lit up. "Would you let me work with you again?"

Doctor Marshall handed Jane the paper with her signature. "Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays after class. You can start this Wednesday."

* * *

 

"Excuse me, is Doctor Morstan in?"

The receptionist nodded. "Yes. Would you like to make an appointment with him?"

"Actually... I was wondering if I could see him."

"I'm sorry, but you need to have a scheduled appointment -"

"I know, but..." Jane looked down at her phone. She had texted him earlier but he didn't reply back. "could you tell him Jane Watson needs to see him?"

Jane blushed as she felt the old receptionist eyes on her, scanning her from head to toes and finally calling at Doctor Morstan's office.

"Doctor Morstan says you can go in."

Jane walked to Matthew's office and stopped when she was just in front of the door. She ran her fingers over her hair and straightened her dark jacket before knocking. When she knocked the door, Matthew opened the door immediately and gestured her to come in and have a sit on the chair across his. Jane tried to kiss him - just a little peck on the cheek as she had always done but Matthew moved his head away.

"What are you doing here?"

Jane frowned. Matthew looked nervous and his blue, healthy eyes were bloodshot. He looked extremely tired and there was something different about him; his clothes were wrinkled and it seemed he hadn't sleep properly for days.

"I've come to talk to Doctor Marshall to join his classes again and I wanted to see you," explained Jane, smiling. But Matthew didn't meet her eyes. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine. What are you doing here?" insisted him.

Jane decided to ignore his tone of voice. "Just wanted to visit you."

"I've got patients waiting," said Matthew sharply.

She frowned. "But... there was no one outside."

"Jane, I think we should stop seeing each other."

Jane blinked once, twice, three times. When she focused her eyes on the new frame hanging on the wall behind Matthew she understood what he meant and why he said that. It was a picture of a woman and two little children. The three of them were smiling and they looked happy. The children, a little boy and a little girl, had the woman's same brown eyes, but their hair was dark and slightly curly like Matthew's.

That woman was his wife. And those kids were Matthew's children.

However, when Jane looked at Matthew's fourth finger of his left hand, he was not wearing any ring.

Suddenly, Jane felt nauseous. Everything was spinning around her and her head hurt. The tears she had ignored were falling down her face. He had lied to her. He had a family and he removed his wedding ring to be with her.

Jane felt betrayed.

"You're married, aren't you?"

Matthew didn't say a word.

"I _knew_ it." admitted Jane.

She stood up and walked to the door. Jane was about to leave when she felt Matthew's strong arms circling her waist and his lips on her neck and then whispering to her ear. "I'm sorry, Jane."

"Don't say it if you don't meant it," said Jane, not even turning to face him.

It was a mere whisper.

And Jane just left.


	10. Death

_"Jane, I need to talk to you."_

_"About what?" hissed Jane, turning to face him while she pointed at the picture hanging on the opposite wall. "About your wife and your children?"_

_"Yes. I need to talk to you about them."_

* * *

Jane deleted Matthew's number off his phone and decided to continue with her life. She couldn't afford to cry anymore for someone who didn't deserve her tears. No one deserved her tears but her own children. So life had to go on because Jane lived for her children and they needed her. She had seen her husband committing suicide. She had seen her eldest son fighting for his life. In those two occasions Jane had gathered all the strength she had and continued with her life. However, now that a man she liked had betrayed her, Jane was not going to lie on bed all day long crying. She had gone through worst. This was nothing compared to all the things that had happened before.

Locky was coughing when Jane left her books and knelt next to her little son who was playing with his big brother on the living room.

"Locky, are you okay baby?"

Locky coughed again. It was a a dry cough and this time Jane was worried. "Mu... mu!"

"He wanna say 'mummy'!" said Hamish.

Jane curled her lips upwards. "I hope so," she lifted Sherlock off the floor and pressed a hand to his forehead. "You're not feverish."

"Muuuuh!"

He coughed again and this time Jane knew it was serious. It was that dry type of cough that hurt babies' throats and Locky was getting grumpy.

"Open your mouth, Locky."

Jane looked at Locky's mouth and at the back of his throat. She was not a doctor, let alone a paediatrician, but she knew her son needed to see a doctor and get some medicines as well. But she was not going to Bart's so Matthew could take a look at her son. And he was not the only paediatrician there, but Jane knew she could manage.

It was just a simple cold.

* * *

 

"Ah, Doctor Marshall," said Matthew sitting across the Chief of Cardiac and Thoracic Surgery at Bart's hospital and placing his plate on the table. "it's unusual to see you here. May I?"

The older man nodded. "Sit down. Yes, I don't frequent the cafeteria that much but my assistant is absent so she's not bringing me that delicious food she cooks."

"Got a new assistant?"

"No. She's just joined my classes again - she's brilliant," explained Doctor Marshall while sipping more of his water. "My favourite student if you ask me."

Matthew smiled. "If she's your favourite student I bet she's brilliant indeed."

"She is. She was interested in Paediatrics but finally signed for Cardiac and Thoracic Surgery. She would have been your assistant if she had chosen differently."

"You've got to love kids to choose Paediatrics as an specialization."

Doctor Marshall nodded. "She's got two kids. But thank God Miss Watson is in my team."

"Jane?"

"Yes. You know her?"

Matthew nodded. "I... I'm her children's doctor."

"Have you seen her youngest then? Sher... I don't remember his name."

"Sherlock?"

The older doctor assented. "She called saying he was ill."

"No... she didn't bring him in."

* * *

 

Jane gave Sherlock a cough medicine for babies and for two days he seemed to get better. But one night Locky wouldn't stop coughing and therefore, he got very grumpy and cried all night long, which meant Jane had to stay awake with her son. The cough was getting worse and worse.

"Buaaaaahh!"

Jane rubbed his son's back softly, reassuringly while holding him in her arms and walking around her room, trying to make him to get some sleep. It was almost four in the morning and Locky hadn't slept at all.

"It's okay, baby. It'll pass. You'll get better soon -"

"Buaaaahh" Locky cried. "Mummy!"

"You said 'mummy'!"

"Mummy, mummy, mummy!" cried Locky. "Buuuuaaahh!"

Jane looked at the bottle of cough syrup. It was good for babies and little kids and Sherlock had been taking it for days, he should have got better long time ago. But Locky was feverish now, the coughing had got worst and now she didn't know what to do. She was a med student and she knew what medicines were good to cure flues, colds, most kind of diseases, but she was not a paediatrician and she didn't know what to do now.

"Let's have a bath, shall we?"

A bath helped to lower the fever, but Locky wouldn't stop coughing. And his crying was making Jane feel helpless.

Jane wrapped Locky with a warm duvet and went downstairs to get Mrs Hudson. She knocked three times until her landlady opened her door.

"Jane?" the landlady noticed very quickly the desperation on Jane's face and when she saw she was holding a crying Locky, Mrs Hudson knew something was wrong.

"Mrs Hudson, I'm so sorry - I know it's late but could you please keep an eye on Hamish while I take Locky to the doctor's?"

Mrs Hudson nodded. "Of course, is he okay?"

"Yeah, I hope so," Jane looked down at Locky's blushing face and at his crying eyes. "He needs to see a doctor _now_."

"Go. Don't worry, I'll keep an eye on Hamish. Call me if you need anything."

Jane smiled. "I will. Thank you."

It was cold outside. Jane hailed a cab and got in. Locky wouldn't stop crying but as soon as they got inside the cab, Locky threw up and there was some blood.

"You're paying it -"

"Bart's hospital, _NOW_!"

* * *

 

"Going home?" asked an old nurse as she glanced at the charts Doctor Morstan left at the desk. "You look tired, Doctor."

Matthew nodded tiredly and put on his coat. "I'm knackered."

Matthew had just stepped out the hospital when he saw Jane getting off a cab with a crying Locky in her arms. She was panicking. She quickly stopped to pay the cabbie and tried to run to the door when he approached her.

"Jane, what happened?"

There were tears in Jane's eyes. "Matthew, please - you've got to help him please!"

When Matthew looked at the dry blood on the corner of Locky's mouth, he knew something was definitely wrong.

"Mummy! Buuuaaahhh!

* * *

 

Jane was standing next to Locky, who was peacefully sleeping on a stretcher in Matthew's office, when he stood next to her. They stood there in a very comfortable silence watching Locky finally sleeping after spending several hours awake.

"You should have brought him in earlier. It's just a mild bronchitis, but you know it could have been worse."

A tear rolled down Jane's cheek. "I know. You don't have to remind me that I'm an awful mother."

"You know I didn't mean that," said Matthew softly and held Jane's hand. He tried to entangle their fingers, but Jane's were stiff and she rejected his touch. "Jane, I need to talk to you."

"About what?" hissed Jane, turning to face him while she pointed at the picture hanging on the opposite wall. "About your wife and your children?"

Matthew bit his lip. "Yes. I need to talk to you about _them_."

"Don't bother."

"Jane, I didn't lie to you!"

"Yes you did," Jane pointed at the picture again. "You never told me you had a family! You said - you said you liked me... but as what? As your mistress?"

Matthew let go of Jane's hand and sunk into his own chair. He pressed the back of his hands to his eyes and sobbed heavily. Endless tears fell down his face and Jane only stared at him.

A part of Jane was pleased because he had hurt her. They had shared nice moments in which Jane dreamt of finally finding love again in one of the most sad places such as a hospital. She was fighting with Hamish to keep him alive and safe and Matthew had helped her and her son. He had been a very hopeful person and Jane knew Hamish probably wouldn't be alive if it hadn't been for him, for his help.

However, the other part inside her felt pity and sadness. She couldn't feel any delight after seeing anyone crying - after seeing _Matthew_ crying. Jane really liked him, she had become very fond of the paediatrician. This had led her to wonder if she hadn't met Sherlock before, would she have met Matthew instead? Would she have fallen in love with him? How different her life would have been then?

"I've never told you I had a family because I don't have one," whispered Matthew, still not meeting Jane's eyes. "They are dead."

Jane felt her heart twitching inside her. "What?"

"They died in a car accident."

* * *

 

Many years ago, Matthew Morstan was still a medical student when he met Anna. She was a shy but lovely primary school teacher who liked to ride her bike around the busy streets of London to go to work. The way they met had always been a very funny story to tell to their friends in parties and meals. Matthew was crossing the street, quite distracted to say the least, when Anna almost collided against him.

 _"Hey, watch where you're going! You almost killed me!"_ shouted Matthew without even paying attention to the person who had fell to the floor trying not to hurt him.

 _"I'm... I'm sorry,"_ whispered a female voice and Matthew turned.

A young girl was on the floor and her knees were covered with blood. Her summer dress was all covered with dirt and her bicycle basket and the seat were was definitely ruined.

Matthew helped to get to her feet. _"I didn't pay attention - sorry."_

When Anna looked up and their eyes met, Matthew was amazed by her beauty; Anna had long straight brownish hair and matching eyes. Her skin was pale and she had some freckles all over her nose and her cheeks. Her lips were full, pink. There was something about that woman that made Matthew realise she was the one.

A year and a half later they were getting married and Matthew Morstan became Doctor Matthew Morstan. They moved to a very nice house near London with enough rooms for them and all the children they wanted to have. And a few months after their wedding, Anna and Matthew were expecting their first child.

One of the most happiest days in Matthew and Anna's life was the day their first child, Olivier, was born. And three years later, a second baby joined their family and her name was Josephine.

Olivier and Josephine were Matthew and Anna's reasons to live for. And for a few years, they were completely happy. Matthew had never been so happy; his children were healthy, good hearted kids and Anna was always there when he needed her the most. Matthew loved Anna with all his heart. She was always taking good care of their children and trying new recipes for him, and she was the reason why Matthew conceived of his life as perfect. He had a nice house, a good car, two lovely children and a very caring, honest and sweet wife.

But things changed and Matthew's life turned upside down the day his wife and his children died in a car accident.

They were going to France for a week. Matthew had promised Anna a week in Paris for months now and he had been working several extra shifts to earn more money and get the best holidays to his family. But they were not only going to visit the Eiffel Tower, The Louvre, and all those famous places. Matthew and Anna had planned those holidays to try for another baby. They wanted to make they family bigger and bigger and Anna couldn't wait to get pregnant and give his children a little sister or a little brother.

It was a rainy night. Matthew had to fill in some charts and he was late. He was supposed to be at home packing his last things and driving his family to the airport. As he didn't want his family to miss one day in Paris, he called Anna and told her to get to the airport and go to France with the kids, and that he would take another flight and see them soon.

Anna called him before leaving; she said she loved him and Matthew promised he would see them soon.

An hour later a police sergeant called him. Anna, Olivier and Josephine had died in a car accident.

Matthew blamed himself.

That house that had always been filled with his children laughter, the smell of Anna's food and mostly important, his family, was now _empty_. His children's rooms were empty, their toys were forgotten on the floor and their laughter and voices had vanished forever. His bed was empty because Anna will never sleep next to him again. Her nice dresses, those soft dresses were not left to never be worn again.

Matthew's family was gone.

* * *

 

For the first time in months Jane had felt something different inside her. When Sherlock died she conceived of a life without someone to love. Jane thought her heart was broken and that it will never beat again. But when Doctor Morstan appeared Jane felt happy again. Doctor Morstan was a honest man, she as sure of it. His eyes were modest, honest, sincere, deep... Every time Matthew looked at her with those eyes, Jane felt peace.

When Jane saw that picture hanging on the wall of his office, when she saw that beautiful woman and those lovely kids smiling and the alikeness between those children and Matthew she was heartbroken. Jane felt sad, very sad because for a moment, she thought of herself as a mistress, as nothing, as a woman, a silly, stupid woman feeling something for a married man with children.

And Jane felt she would never love again, that maybe she wasn't born to feel love.

"I'm sorry," said Jane.

Matthew shook his head. "It's okay. You didn't know."

He couldn't take it anymore. He had fallen for Jane Watson and every heart beat belonged to her. Matthew was in love with Jane and he was scared. He was afraid of her rejection, afraid of getting his heart broken again. He couldn't conceive of a life without Anna, Olivier and Josephine. But they were gone and now he was alone. And Jane Watson had appeared in his life and there was nothing else Matthew wanted. He wanted Jane and he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her.

Because he _loved_ her.

"It's okay," Jane wiped the tears off his face and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

"I'm sorry for treating you like that - for not telling you the truth from the beginning. But I don't know if I can do this."

Jane nodded but didn't say anything.

"I'm not good enough for you, Jane. I'm old, I work all day long. I'm not even a good doctor..." said Matthew, bitterly.

"You're not old, you're just ten years older than me -"

"Exactly!"

Jane smiled just a bit and kissed him again, softly. "You're the best doctor I've ever met - everyone says you're brilliant. _I_ think you're brilliant," Jane made a pause and looked at Locky's sleeping form. "You've saved my children."

"I like you, Jane. And I'm sorry if this is..." Matthew kissed Jane's hand. "if it's too soon but _I love you."_

Matthew pressed a kiss to Jane's lips. He placed both of her arms on Jane's waist and pushed her against the nearest wall. At the beginning Jane resisted a bit but she ended up kissing him back. The kiss that started being frenetic, then turned to be soft and tender and ended up being quite a passionate kiss. Jane's short hands were on Matthew's neck, trying to pull him closer as if if what even possible to do so.

They stopped when they felt breathless.

"I don't want to push you," said he, while taking her hand and both entangled their fingers. "I only want to make you happy."

Jane pressed a kiss to his lips and then rested her head on his chest. She closed her eyes and inhaled Matthew's scent. She was trying to take his cent in for herself, to have something to remember when they were not together because Doctor Matthew Morstan was everything Jane wanted.

"Please, don't go."

He kissed Jane, passionately, softly, very softly and slowly this time. "I'll stay for as long as you want me to."


	11. Absence Makes The Heart Grow Fonder

_"Have you ever heard of the saying 'Absence makes the heart grow fonder'?"_

_Matthew nodded._

_"Jane will always love my brother," explained Mycroft._

* * *

"Now take deep breaths," whispered Matthew as he pressed the stethoscope to Hamish's chest, close to his heart. "you're a very healthy boy!"

Hamish smiled. "Is my heart good, Doctor Morstan?"

"Yes, it is. Your heart is working amazingly."

"Are you gonna stay for dinner? Cause mummy said you stayin'."

Matthew nodded. "Yes, I'm staying for dinner. Your mother told me your hearing aid was bothering you. Is that true?"

"Yeah. My ear hurts."

"It's because this hearing aid is too small for you. You need to get a new one."

"Daddy gave it to me," said Hamish cutting Matthew off, taking his hearing aid off his ear. "I don't wanna a new one."

Matthew stared at Hamish for a moment. The boy moved his fair curls off his forehead and smiled to his favourite doctor. Matthew couldn't help but think of how alike Hamish and his dead son Oliver were, not physically speaking, but Hamish was a good hearted boy as Oliver had been. Hamish was always looking after Locky, making himself sure there were nothing on the floor that could make his little brother fall or stumble when Locky walked around the flat. Oliver used to do the same when his sister Josephine started walking too.

Matthew reached out for Hamish hand. "You need a new one or your ear will hurt you."

"But daddy gave it to me..."

The doctor smiled. "I'll tell you what we can do: I'll get you a new one so your ear doesn't hurt you anymore and a little box so you can keep the hearing aid you daddy gave to you."

"That's cool!"

Doctor Morstan kissed Hamish's curls. "Now let's go downstairs. Your mother must we waiting for us."

Jane prepared pasta and the four of them had a very pleasant dinner. Locky, as always, got more food on his clothes than in his stomach and Hamish laughed at his little brother's funny looks every time Jane tried to make him eat properly.

Hamish and Locky become very fond of their favourite doctor and it was amazing for them because Doctor Morstan was very funny and sweet. He was always listening to their hearts using his stethoscope and holding their mummy's hand. Locky was still very little to see and think properly, but Hamish saw that; he saw his doctor holding his mummy's hand, placing a hand on the small of her back all the time and bringing flowers and chocolates for her every time he had dinner with them. To Hamish that was normal. It was totally normal.

Truth to be told, Jane and Matthew decided not to say anything yet. They had been dating for a few weeks by now and Jane was the one who decided it was for the best not to tell anyone just yet, and that it was better to wait before telling everyone about their relationship. Matthew agreed because he knew her children were still very little to be told and to understand their mummy was tying to rebuild her life after their father's death. However, Locky and Hamish were not the only two who didn't know about them. Jane told Matthew it was for the best to wait before telling her ex parents-in-law as well. Matthew agreed again but mostly because there was something about Mycroft Holmes that worried him. The doctor had met Locky and Hamish's grandparents, Elizabeth and Richard, and he knew they were good people. But Mycroft Holmes was different. Matthew had felt Mycroft's eyes on him as if he was trying to decipher him... as if he was looking into his own soul. As if Mycroft knew something about him.

"All right sweeties, time to go to bed," said Jane as she glanced at her children yawning on the table. "Say goodnight to Doctor Morstan."

"But I wanna stay!"

"Mummy!" Locky complained too.

Jane shook her head. "It's late. Come on, I'll help you to wash your teeth."

Matthew kissed the boys' foreheads before Jane took them upstairs to their room. He started cleaning the table and washing the dishes when a few minutes later, Jane was hugging him from behind. She circled his waist with her fragile arms and rested her head on his strong back. Once the doctor had finished with the dishes he turned and, supporting his weight on the counter, he embraced Jane and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.

"Thanks for coming," whispered Jane. "I know you've been working all day long. You must be tired."

Matthew circled her waist with his strong arms and leaned forward for another kiss. "I wanted to see the kids."

"You didn't want to see me...?" asked Jane jokingly and grinned.

"Of course I wanted to see you," whispered Matthew softly to her ear as he moved his hands from her waist to her hips. "I've missed you so much."

Jane leaned on him and kissed him. She placed her hands on his neck, trying to pull him close and she was on tip toes because he was far taller than her. Matthew closed his eyes and moved so Jane was the one being pressed against the counter. With a quick movement, he helped her to sit on the cold counter so their heads were at the same level and Jane glued her legs around Matthew's waist and crossed her ankles behind his back.

Their kiss became erratic, deep and frenetic. Matthew let his hands travel on Jane's back, tracing imaginary patterns with her fingertips between her shoulder blades, on the small of her back, and finally on the low space of her back where he found the end of her shirt and let his hand move underneath the soft fabric, finally caressing Jane's skin.

Jane moaned against his lips when she felt Matthew's warm hands caressing the skin of her back softly. Matthew felt Jane's fingers undoing the first buttons of his shirt when he decided to take things further. Matthew started pressing soft, wet kisses to Jane's neck and collarbones making Jane loll her head back.

"Matthew..."

Matthew's hands were on her hipbones when he thrust and their hips met. Jane moaned against Matthew's ear when she felt his hardness being pressed against her. This only made things difficult for the doctor. Both were in fire, both needed each other and the clothes were in the way.

Both were close to get rid of their shirts when Jane heard a pair of clumsy, short steps coming from upstairs. She pushed Matthew off softly and turned to face away so she would button her shirt. Soon Locky stepped into the kitchen carrying his favourite teddy bear and sucking his thumb.

"Mummy... mik!"

"Want your bottle, Locky?"

While Matthew put the kettle to make some tea, Jane prepared Locky his baby bottle and she later sat on her armchair with her youngest on her lap. It didn't take much until Locky was deeply asleep on Jane's arms when Matthew placed a tray with two cups and tea on the small table in the living room.

Jane went upstairs to put Locky on his bed leaving Matthew alone. Sipping his tea, he looked at the pictures on the mantelpiece. Matthew focused on the third photograph in which Jane was wearing a white dress and standing next to whom Matthew knew had been her husband. Jane was smiling widely and she looked beautiful. The doctor noticed she was pregnant at the moment the picture had been taken - she was expecting Locky. Then, he focused on that man who had been Jane's husband. He was a total mystery to Matthew. He had wanted to look him up on the internet, but he had no name to start with. He then thought of looking Jane's name up on the internet, but he decided not to do it. Matthew deduced Jane's husband had been important since Jane didn't have a job and yet she and her children had everything they needed. This made Matthew believe that maybe her ex in-laws were helping her, or maybe her husband had had a good job.

"His name was _Sherlock,_ " said Jane standing next to him. "He died two months before Locky was born."

Matthew turned to her and placed an arm around her shoulders. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay."

"I love this one," said he, taking the first frame in which Jane was a merely seventeen-year-old teenager. "You were expecting Hamish, right?"

Jane nodded. "I was seventeen." She smiled bitterly remembering those old days when she was pregnant, for the first time, and in love with Sherlock, for the first time as well. "I was very young."

"You still are," and with that, Matthew pressed a soft kiss to Jane's lips.

Matthew placed his hands on Jane's waist and held her tightly. Their kiss was soft, tender, almost pure. There was no rush, no pressure. Soon afterwards Jane clung her arms to his neck. "I need you tonight. Please, stay," whispered Jane to his ear.

Holding his hand, Jane led Matthew to her room.

* * *

Mycroft Holmes was comfortably sitting on his armchair and holding a glass of fine wine when he looked at the pictures the secret surveillance had sent to him. Sherlock had asked Mycroft to take care of Jane and to make himself sure that she and their children were safe. But Mycroft Holmes had always taken things far too seriously than normal. Mycroft set a secret guard on Jane Watson since Sherlock had 'died' and now the member of the British Government knew where Jane went to, what she had for lunch, what she watched on telly, the books she was reading and even the brand of shampoo she liked. And Mycroft also knew everything he needed to know about his nephews.

And Mycroft also knew his still (because Sherlock was alive and therefore Jane was still married to him) sister-in-law was seeing Doctor Matthew Morstan not to talk about Hamish or Sherlock's health but to have dinners and different kinds of meals at Baker Street as if they had always been a couple - a family. Matthew and Jane were seeing each other not to exchange medical opinions or books, if you want to put it that way, or to have a coffee at a nice place but to hold hands, kiss and be close to each other.

So, sitting on his armchair with a glass of wine in one hand and several pictures of Jane Watson and Matthew Morstan kissing and holding hands on the street outside Bart's, at a cafe, on different streets of London, Mycroft had to take the decision of whether he ought to tell his little brother his wife was seeing another man. And that this man loved Hamish and Locky and that they loved him back. That this man was offering Jane stability, safety, company and love - Matthew was being serious about his intentions. So was Jane.

Mycroft knew no one was to blame. Sherlock was 'dead' to everyone. Jane had every right to find another man, fall in love with him and try and rebuilt her life if she wanted to. Jane had the right to see any man she wanted and do whatever she wanted as well because she was single. Jane was a widow and she wasn't even wearing her wedding ring anymore.

He knew this was probably going to break Sherlock's heart.

It was time to do something. It was time to tell Doctor Matthew Morstan he ought to be careful because Jane Watson was not alone.

* * *

When Matthew woke up Jane was still lying next to him. She was snuggling against him, resting her head on his strong chest. He realised he hadn't had a proper night sleeping like that in months, in very long months indeed. It had been years since he last slept next to a woman.

Last night things were calm but yet different from what he thought they would after they had been pulling at each other's clothes in the kitchen after dinner. Matthew never conceived of pushing Jane when he knew it was still too early in their relationship to take that next step which meant getting their bodies as close as they could ever get.

Matthew watched Jane stir when he kissed her lips.

"Morning," whispered Jane.

Matthew yawned. "Good morning, love."

"Are you working today?"

"I'm afraid I am."

"But it's Saturday... I want you to stay," said Jane getting off the bed and wrapping herself with a blue gown Matthew didn't know it had been Sherlock's, Jane's dead husband.

"I want to stay as well. And take you and the kids somewhere, I'm sorry, darling."

Jane smiled at him and walked until she was standing next to him on the bed. Last night she had made him sleep on her side of the bed while she occupied Sherlock's. It had been more than a year since that side has even been occupied again, but for some reason Jane wouldn't let Matthew use that side. She didn't tell him so when they went to bed last night, Jane lie on Sherlock's side without saying a word.

She kissed him and quickly moved over him and straddled him. Matthew sat on the bed so their chests were glued together and then he circled her waist tightly.

"I'm sorry for last night," whispered Jane softly. "I want you, I really do but -"

Matthew silenced her by pressing a soft, chaste kiss to her lips. "It's okay. I can wait."

"You sure?"

"Of course. I'll wait all the time you need."

Jane hugged him tightly. "I don't deserve you. Thank you, Matthew."

"I love you," said he.

Jane didn't say it back.

She only smiled at him tenderly. "I'll make us some coffee."

"I'm a bit late," said he, looking at his watch. "I'll go now, before the kids see me here."

Jane reached out for his hand. "But it's Saturday and they always get up late. Please, stay."

"You know I want to stay. If it depended on me, I'd never leave. But I've got patients waiting."

* * *

Matthew was on his way to Bart's hospital when he stopped at Starbucks to grab a quick coffee. The doctor was looking for his keys when he watched his car being towed away.

"Hey! Hey, that's my car!"

"Doctor Morstan, please, get into the car," said a brunette woman wearing dark, expensive clothes and not looking at him while quickly tipping on her phone.

Matthew looked at the black car and matching windows. There was no explanation for what was happening. He had parked his car properly and he was not breaking any law. All the paperwork was perfect too. So who was this woman and what was happening? How did she know his name?

"I'm sorry, who are you?"

The woman smiled, still focused on her phone. "My employer, Mr Mycroft Holmes, would like to have a word with you."

"Well, I can't. My car is being taken and I'm late for work. Tell your employer he can go to my office next Monday or make an appointment with my secretary."

"Please, get into the car Doctor Morstan."

Matthew blinked once, twice. The coffee on his hand was already cold. His car was gone and when he looked at his watch he realised he was very late by now. "I'm not. Why is he doing this? What does he want?"

The woman finally looked at him. "Mr Holmes would like to talk to you about Miss Watson."

It took Matthew a few seconds to process what that brunette woman had just told him. She got into the car and left the door open for him. As soon as Matthew got inside, he met two other men inside and each of them was holding a gun, but still they were not aiming at him.

* * *

"Ah, Doctor Morstan," said Mycroft, standing with his umbrella in one hand and gesturing Matthew to have a sit on a chair placed across him. "please, sit down."

Matthew didn't sit. He stood across Mycroft Holmes and looked at his surroundings. They were standing in the middle of a deserted, empty old factory and there was nothing and no one near. Only the two men were there, only them and their souls.

"You could have called and made an appointment with my secretary."

Mycroft eyed the doctor and deduced all the things he needed to know. He preferred to ignore the love bite on the doctor's neck which had been cautiously covered by the doctor with the collar of his shirt, but it was still visible. For long seconds Mycroft didn't say a word until he realised Matthew was not going to sit on the offered chair.

"Your assistant said you called the hospital saying I'm not going today."

Mycroft nodded. "Certainly."

"Why?"

"Because you and I, Doctor, have things to discuss and talk about."

Matthew was getting nervous and angry. "Yes, your assistant said so."

"Well?"

"Well what?"

Mycroft curled his lips upwards. "Doctor Morstan, what is your _connection_ to Jane Watson?"

"You already know it." snapped Matthew.

And Mycroft knew the doctor was indeed a clever man. "Do you plan to continue your _association_ with Miss Watson?"

"Yes."

Mycroft handed the doctor a dark folder. It was all filled with pictures of him and Jane kissing, holding hands and walking along several places around the city together alone and some of them with Hamish and Locky. There were also pictures of Matthew alone walking around the city, driving, at Bart's and at the shops.

"Where did you get these?" asked Matthew angrily. "Are you spying on us?"

"Merely taking care of my brother's wife and my nephews," replied Mycroft neutrally.

Matthew frowned. "Taking care of her... what is this all about?"

"Doctor Morstan, do you _love_ Jane?"

"That's not your business."

"Yes, it is."

"Why?"

Mycroft smiled. "She's my brother's wife."

" _Was_ ," said Matthew sharply. "she _was_ your brother's wife. He's _dead_."

"Doctor Morstan, you have seen pictures of my brother, I'm sure."

Matthew didn't say a word.

"... and you have noticed Jane has yet not reciprocated to your commonly used expression _'I love you'_."

Matthew remained silent.

"I wish not to go any further into more intimate and personal details of your relationship -"

"What do you mean?"

Mycroft looked into Doctor Morstan blue eyes. "You and my brother share many... _similarities -_ physically speaking, of course. The dark, curled hair. The blue eyes. The way you dress yourself. And..." Mycroft stopped and looked at one particular picture of Jane, Sherlock and Hamish taken some years ago. "Haven't you ever entertained the idea that Jane is with you only because you reminded her of her husband?"

Mycroft knew he was playing with fire. He knew he was touching a nerve. Mycroft knew he was saying the truth. There was a possibility Jane had decided to rebuild her life, or at least start a new story with Matthew because of the resemblance and how alike the doctor and Sherlock were. The dark, curly hair, the eyes, they were about the same height, the way Doctor Morstan dressed himself with tailored clothes - he looked a lot like Sherlock.

Yet, it was a possibility. But it could also be just a coincidence that they looked similar.

"No."

"Are you sure?"

Matthew didn't hesitate. "Yes."

"She's using you to replace my brother."

"No, she isn't," hissed Matthew.

Mycroft shook his head. "You are very confident about yourself."

"No, I am not. I just know she will never want me to replace her husband."

"Oh. And what makes you think so?"

Matthew looked away. "Because I know she loved him. But he's _dead_ "

Mycroft lost. He had tried pushing Morstan using his first tactic, which was mentioning and remarking how alike he and Sherlock were and about the possibility of Jane only being with him because of the physical similarity.

"And what about you, Doctor Morstan?"

"What about me?"

Mycroft produced some photographs from inside his suit jacket and handed them to Matthew. They were pictures of Anna, Oliver and Josephine. "Are you trying to replace your dead wife and children with Jane, Hamish and Sherlock?"

"How dare you."

"I know _all_ about you, Doctor Morstan. Jane is the first woman you're dating after your family's death - after more than three years."

Matthew nodded, fighting some tears back. "What do you want, Mister Holmes?"

"You tell me."

"If you know all about me as you said, then you must know I _do_ love Jane," said Matthew firmly. "I'm not trying to replace his husband and Jane and the boys will never be a replacement of my Anna, Oliver and Josephine."

Mycroft felt as if he had heard all he needed to know. His tactic number two failed. Pushing Matthew Morstan to his limits using his dead family didn't work.

"Have you ever heard of the saying _'Absence makes the heart grow fonder'_?"

Matthew nodded.

"Jane will always love my brother," explained Mycroft. " _Always_."

Matthew turned getting himself ready to leave. "I know. And _I_ will always love her."

"Doctor Morstan, things are not quite like you think they are."

Matthew ignored him and left.

Inwardly, Mycroft knew there was nothing else he could do. He would have to let Jane rebuild her life because after all, to Jane, Sherlock was dead. And for her safety and the boys', it would always be better that way.

It would always be better if Sherlock remained 'dead'.

Mycroft could only be sure of one thing though: Doctor Morstan truly loved Jane. And he was going to keep her, Locky and Hamish safe


	12. And I Love Her

_"Hamish... Matthew is my boyfriend."_

_"You and Doctor Morstan are gonna kiss?" asked Hamish curiously. "And have babies?"_

 

* * *

Jane and Matthew were sitting next to each other at the park. Hamish and Locky were playing with a ball not so far from them when Jane leaned close to the doctor and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

"I think it's time."

"Are you sure?" asked Matthew softly as he placed an arm around her shoulders.

"Yes."

Matthew noticed Jane didn't hesitate.

He didn't tell her about Mycroft and all the things he had told him. Matthew knew Jane would probably get mad but he didn't want her to fight with the boys' uncle. Matthew knew Mycroft had good intentions because he was Locky and Hamish's uncle, but that didn't give him the right to do what he had done to him - taking his car and doing something to keep it from him for more than a week and practically kidnapping him to talk about Jane and Sherlock, her _dead_ husband. However, Matthew decided not to tell Jane about him.

Weeks passed by and now they had been seeing each other for almost three months and they were very happy. They met at different coffee houses, sometimes at Bart's canteen and Matthew was always driving Jane back to Baker Street after uni, unless his shifts at the hospital didn't let him see her as much as he wanted to. Jane also invited Matthew to have dinner with her and the boys every now and then but their touches had always been reserved, limited until the kids were in bed and they were alone. They had to keep their relationship in the shadows because Jane wanted to be sure about them. Although Jane was completely sure Matthew's intentions were honest, she still preferred to wait a bit before telling her children they were together.

A few days ago Hamish had told Jane Doctor Morstan was amazing and that he wanted him to be his doctor forever. Locky loved Matthew too, and he was always walking close to him, asking him to read him stories in his baby talking and sitting on his lap every time he was around. This made Jane realise her children liked Matthew, which was what Jane wanted. If her children loved Matthew, then she knew their relationship was going to work.

"Do you want me to be with you when you tell them?"

"No," Jane's eyes were fixated on her sons. "I think it'll be better if I tell them myself."

* * *

 

Jane was repeating inwardly all the words she had prepared to tell her children she was dating their favourite doctor while watching them eating. She was nervous. More nervous than ever. To Jane it was harder this time to tell them she was seeing Matthew than the time she had to tell Hamish Sherlock had died. However, she couldn't compare those two moments because both were different: in one she had to tell her son his daddy was gone forever and in the second one she was going to tell them there was someone new in her life.

She knew she couldn't just keep her relationship with Matthew in the shadows forever - keep it as a secret forever. It had been three months since she started dating Matthew, properly, and they had to keep a considerable distance between them when they were together and Locky and Hamish were present. They could hold hands and kiss when they were alone or when they were out but that was all. Matthew didn't deserve it. She didn't deserve it. Her children deserved to know she was trying to rebuild her life.

Jane was sitting in the living room with Locky in her lap, who was drinking his baby bottle, and Hamish, who was comfortably sitting next to his mummy on the large sofa. She turned the telly off when she felt ready and when she knew it was the moment.

"Hamish... do you like Doctor Morstan?"

Hamish just nodded and pointed at the telly. "Mum! I wanna watch Doctor Who!"

"It'll be just a moment."

"But mummy..."

Jane bit her lip. "I need to talk to you."

Hamish nodded and sunk into the sofa. By the serious tone of his mummy's voice, he knew she was being serious so he had to forget Doctor Who was on and listen to what his mummy had to say.

But for some reason Hamish knew this was something a bit not good.

"I didn't do it!"

"What did you do?"

"Nothin'! I swear!"

Jane curled her lips upwards into a tiny smile. "Hamish, I just need to tell you something very important to me."

"Okay."

"D'you like Doctor Morstan?" Jane repeated the word.

Hamish nodded again. "Yes."

"He's good to you, isn't he?"

"Yes! He gave me a new hearing air and a box to keep the one daddy gave me," explained Hamish happily.

Jane smiled and once Locky had finished his baby bottle and fallen asleep, she placed him in the cot in the living room."You... you know what 'being boyfriends' means, don't you?"

"It's when a boy likes a girl?"

"Yes," Jane nodded, "It's when a boy and a girl like each other. And well... two boys can be boyfriends too. And girls can be girlfriends - well, that's another story -"

"Two boys can be boyfriends?" asked Hamish curiously. "And two girls too?"

Jane sighed. "This is not working."

"Mummy?"

Jane closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them, Hamish was staring at her with a confused look in his face. This was definitely not easy and she regretted not letting Matthew stay with her. Maybe if he had been present and sitting next to her things wouldn't have got this complicated.

"Hamish... Doctor Morstan and I are very good friends. I really like him. And he likes me too..." Hamish only stared at him mummy confusedly. "Matthew is my _boyfriend_."

Jane felt her heart pounding within her chest. She felt dizzy and breathless for a second when she noticed how Hamish's face expression changed from confused to nothing.

"Hamish?"

Nothing.

"Hamish?"

"You and Doctor Morstan are gonna kiss?" asked Hamish curiously, cutting Jane off. "And have babies?"

This took Jane by surprise. She hesitated for a moment. They were going to kiss, Hamish was right about that because well, they had kissed already but not in front of them. But babies? No, that was out of question. Jane had only been with Matthew for no more than three months and they haven't discussed that because it was too early. They were starting a new relationship but that didn't mean they were getting married or having children any time soon.

"No - yes, no." Jane bit her lip. "What I'm trying to say is... is that we are going to kiss, yes, but we're not going to have babies."

"And daddy?"

No.

No, no, no.

No

_Shit._

"Daddy is in Heaven."

Hamish got off the sofa and shot one last look to his mother. "I wanna go to bed."

And with that, he went downstairs to his room and slammed the door shut.

* * *

 

The following morning Hamish was quiet. He didn't say a word unless Jane asked him something. Hamish didn't say a word not even to his little brother when Locky asked him to play with him with using his baby talk.

Hamish ate his breakfast quietly and then held Jane hand reluctantly when they were on their way to school.

"Today I'm not going to uni so I'll pick you up early, okay?" asked Jane softly as she knelt in front of Hamish outside school. "I'll make lunch too. Whatever you want to eat I'll cook it."

Hamish shrugged.

"Fish and chips, your favourite?"

Nothing.

"I love you, Hamish," said Jane as she pressed a kiss to Hamish's forehead.

Hamish didn't say a word. He always replied and he always hugged his mummy before getting into school. But this time he turned and left without saying a word.

A few hours later, Jane picked Hamish up from school and things were still the same; Hamish held his mother's hand reluctantly and remained silent until they arrived back home. Jane told him she had cooked fish and chips and they were going to the park after lunch so Hamish felt better and at least he talked to her when he asked her if he could take his ball to the park to play with other boys. Hamish felt happy and he practically ran the stairs to the living room where he found Matthew sitting on his daddy's armchair with Locky sitting on his lap.

"Hello, poppet! How was school?"

Nothing.

During lunch Hamish didn't say a word. He only stared at the food in front of him and ate in silence. Jane and Matthew were discussing again things about hospitals that neither of her children understood and Hamish felt alone, lost, left behind. Suddenly his little brother was eating sitting on Doctor Morstan's lap and he preferred him over his mummy! Suddenly his mummy talked to Doctor Morstan all the time and now he was placing an arm around her shoulders!

Now Doctor Morstan called his mummy 'darling', 'love' and 'honey'!

The anger growing inside Hamish exploded when his mummy prepared tea after lunch and he saw Doctor Morstan placing a hand on the small of his mummy's back and pressing a soft kiss to her lips. They were still in the kitchen when Jane placed the cups with hot tea on the table and Hamish, who was sitting across Matthew on the table, leaned forward and did as if he wanted to reach out for some cookies and pushed the mug so the hot tea would spill all over the doctor's lap.

Jane saw that and she knew Hamish had done it on purpose. Matthew immediately jumped back and hissed in pain, the tea was too hot and it was practically burning his thighs.

"Hamish Watson Holmes!"

Hamish looked at Matthew and then at his mummy angrily. "I didn't do it!"

"Yes you did!" shouted Jane as she handed Matthew a tea towel. "You're going to your room to have a think right now!"

"NO!"

Matthew placed a hand on Jane's shoulder. "Jane, it's okay, it's nothing, really -"

"No, he ruined your trousers," said Jane and then turned to Hamish. "Go to your room - _NOW!_ "

Hamish was so angry his entire face was red. "I hate you!" he shouted at Matthew.

Jane walked towards him, grabbed him by his wrist and walked him to the stairs. "You're going to your room right now! No park for you today -"

"But mummy!"

"Let me finish!," hissed Jane and pointed upstairs. "Go to your room and have a think. You'll come downstairs when I say so and you'll apologise to Matthew, you hear me?"

It was the first time Jane had to shout and tell off Hamish like this. She was so angry for what her child had done she didn't stop for a second to hear herself shouting like that. Not even to stop for a moment to hear herself, to hear what she was telling to her son. Jane didn't even stop for a moment to see the heavy tears on Hamish's eyes.

Hamish turned, went to his room and slammed the door shut. Locky only stared at the scene with his eyes as wide as saucers from the floor of the living room where he was playing with his toys.

"Love, you shouldn't have shouted at him like that," said Matthew finishing, or at least trying, to dry his trousers. He soaked the tea towel into cold water and pressed it to his thighs to lessen the burning pain on his skin. "He did nothing."

"I saw him! He did it on purpose!"

"It was nothing..."

Jane shook her head and let out a long sigh. "Your trousers."

"It's nothing," repeated Matthew.

Jane led him to her room and handed him a pair of dark trousers she had found in one corner of the wardrobe. They fit Matthew perfectly as he shared Sherlock's height and body shape. "These were Sherlock's. Sorry, it's all I have."

"Thank you, it's fine."

"Let me wash these and then I'll tell Hamish to apologise."

"No, it's all right -"

"No, it's not all right, Matthew!" Jane sat on her bed and covered her face with her hands. "He shouldn't have done that."

Matthew sat next to her and placed an arm around her shoulders. "Love, what's wrong?"

"I don't know how to handle this. I thought it was going to be easier and it's not."

"Let me talk to him," whispered Matthew.

Jane kissed him again, softly this time. "I don't know..."

"Please."

Matthew went upstairs and knocked the door one time, but when he didn't get any reply, he knocked two more times until he heard a shoe being thrown to the door.

"Go'way!"

The doctor opened the door softly and found Hamish lying on his bed with his back to the door. "Hamish, it's me. Can I talk to you?"

"No! Go'way!"

Matthew ignored his words and sat next to him on his bed. Hamish didn't turn to see him, and just remained his position there with his back to the doctor.

"What's wrong, Hamish?"

"I don't wanna you to be my daddy!"

Matthew bit his lip. This was not easy. He had talked to Jane about this and the first thing they had agreed is that he was not going to replace Sherlock Holmes. Jane had told him firmly that she didn't want her boys to call him 'daddy' and Matthew accepted that because he wanted the same; he didn't want the boys to call him 'daddy' because he wasn't their daddy. He was merely their mother's boyfriend and that was all. He was going to protect them and make everything within his power and beyond to make them happy and keep them healthy. Matthew was going to look after them as if he had been their father, but he was not going to try to replace Sherlock Holmes. He didn't want them to call him 'daddy' because they already had a father, the thing is that he died and left them alone.

"I don't want to replace your father, Hamish. I just want to make you and your mother happy, that's all."

"But now mummy likes you best and she hates me!"

"No, she doesn't -"

"Yes!" shouted Hamish while sitting on his bed to face his doctor. There were tears in his eyes and he was sobbing heavily. "She hates me! She says she loves you and she kisses you and-and-and," Hamish was breathless and started to stutter. "She doesn't love me anymore! You'll have babies an' she'll... she will leave me alone forever!"

Matthew embraced Hamish, though the boy rejected his touch, soon he was resting his head against his doctor's strong chest. Matthew felt himself like crying too, remembering those moments in which his Oliver or sometimes Josephine cried like that in his arms. The doctor felt guilty because of Hamish's sadness; he didn't want neither of Hamish or little Sherlock to feel sad or forgotten or left alone because their mother was dating him. Sometimes Matthew felt as if his own intentions weren't good enough.

"She won't do that, Hamish. Jane doesn't hate you. She loves you so much that she would give you her own heart if you needed it."

Hamish stopped crying. "You sure? Mummy doesn't hate me?"

"Of course she doesn't hate you. She never will."

"I don't wanna new babies."

"Jane and I will not have babies."

"Promise?"

Matthew let out a long sigh. "No," whispered Matthew knowing Jane was listening behind the door of Hamish and Locky's room. "You're still very little to understand, but Jane and I are just boyfriends. We are not... it's still too early to say if we're ever... getting married or having babies."

"I don't wanna a new baby," repeated Hamish.

Matthew managed a tiny smile. "Hamish... I just want you to know that I don't want to replace your father. I don't want you or Locky to call me 'daddy' - well, if you want to, I'll be okay with it but... What you need to understand is that your mummy will never stop loving you, okay? And I just want to make her happy. And you too, because I love you."

Hamish nodded and wiped the tears off his face. He hugged Matthew tightly and kissed his cheek. "I'm sorry, Doctor Morstan."

"It's okay. But just one more thing, though."

"What?"

"Call me 'Matthew'."

"You're not gonna be my doctor then?"

Matthew nodded. "I'll always be your doctor. But you don't need to call me 'Doctor Morstan' anymore."

"Matthew..." whispered Hamish, testing the word for the first time. "I wanna go to the park, please."

Jane, who had been listening to their conversation behind the door, walked in and sat next to Hamish on the bed. Her eyes were slightly red, it was obvious she had been crying and she was carrying Locky in her arms. "Have you apologised?"

Hamish nodded. "Yes. I'm sorry, mummy."

Jane kissed her son's curly head and smiled at him. "I love you, Hamish. Just because Matthew is my boyfriend it doesn't mean I'll not love you or your brother anymore, okay?"

"And daddy? What 'bout daddy?"

Matthew looked into Jane's eyes and waited for her approval. "I'm sure your daddy is very happy in Heaven knowing your mummy and you are happy."

Hamish didn't say anything. He was still too little to think properly about the answer Matthew had given him. Hamish was still too little to understand his daddy was not happy in Heaven because he wasn't there; Sherlock was somewhere no one knew about, not even Mycroft, and Sherlock was not happy because he actually didn't know what was happening.

"Can we go to the park?"

Jane smiled. "Yes, we'll go now."

* * *

 

The following day was a Sunday. And Sundays where the days in which Jane went to the Holmes' with her children. Sundays where the days in which Jane spent most of the day watching her ex in-laws playing with her children, looking at Elizabeth cooking sweet things for the boys and looking at Richard reading stories to Hamish and Locky. Sundays were also Mycroft's days off. It was the day he spent some time with his nephews and told them stories of their father's childhood.

When Jane sat to drink tea with her ex in-laws and Mycroft ,while Locky and Hamish were playing in the garden, she knew she had to tell them. They were her family as well. They were her children's grandparents and Mycroft was her children's uncle and they had been so supportive and helpful since Sherlock had died. Elizabeth, Richard and even Mycroft were like her second family. They had been there when Sherlock was gone and they were still there to help her now that she was nothing but a widow.

So when Jane told them she was dating Doctor Morstan, her children's doctor, she didn't expect their reaction. Jane had expected rejection from them, nasty comments, words, angry faces. However, Elizabeth and Richard told her they were happy for her. Richard said he knew Doctor Morstan was a good man and that he had seen he really loved the children. Even though Elizabeth told Jane she was happy now that she was seeing someone new and finally trying to rebuild her life, something told Jane Elizabeth was not completely happy to say the least. Jane knew Elizabeth had a special love for Sherlock; he had been the closest to her while Mycroft had always been close to their father. Elizabeth had adored Sherlock and that became quite clear when Elizabeth said something that somehow suggested it would have been better to find someone like Mycroft. Jane shook her head at the idea of dating Mycroft. It would have been quite creepy. But Jane knew Elizabeth only wanted the best for her and her grandchildren too.

Mycroft didn't say much but soft, polite words. He said he wished her nothing but happiness.

So having her children and her ex in-laws' blessing, Jane knew she could finally love Matthew as much as he loved her.

* * *

 

"Couldn't wait to finish," said Matthew as he put his coat on and pressed a quick kiss to Jane's lips. "I missed you."

Jane smiled at him. She had gone to his office to then go to his house after he finished his shift. As Elizabeth and Richard were in Paris with Locky and Hamish for a week, Jane felt alone in the flat. It was a warm Friday night and Jane had to study because the next Monday she was taking her last exam before her summer holidays started.

Jane needed to study and Matthew had offered his help. He invited Jane to stay at his place for a few days so she wouldn't feel so lonely without her children for a week. And Jane had accepted happily. It was an unspoken step they were taking, trying to live together for at least a few days now that their relationship was growing after each day they spend together, with each other's company.

Jane held his hand and both entangled their fingers and started walking along the hospital corridors side by side. "I miss them, Matthew. The flat feels so... silent without them," admitted Jane.

Matthew smiled. "Let's have dinner. You and me. I'll cook."

"Of course."

They went to Matthew's house and Jane loved it. The house was amazingly decorated and so clean and pristine. Matthew's wife had had a very good taste and she had really known how to decorate. The living room was small, but yet it looked bigger thanks to the white walls and the minimalistic decoration. There were a kitchen, a dinning room and a small play pen settled in the kitchen.

"It was Josephine's," explained Matthew as Jane knelt to take a look at it. "I always try to find anything else to do instead of dismantle it."

"It's lovely. Will you give me a tour around the house?"

"Sure."

Matthew showed Jane her children's old rooms which were now empty. Matthew had given most to charity and the only things left were a few toys such as teddy bears, some action men property of Oliver and some dolls that used to be Josephine's. The walls of Oliver's room were blue and Josephine's were pink. Jane looked at a small frame hanging on the wall of Oliver's room. It was a picture of Matthew and his wife Anna that had been taken when she was pregnant and expecting their first child.

"She was beautiful," whispered Jane. "You must have loved her so much."

Matthew only smiled. "I did. I loved her with all my heart."

And finally Matthew showed Jane the guests room which was going to be her room while she stayed at his place for the week the kids were in France with their grandparents. Though both Matthew and Jane inwardly knew that was not going to happen. It was an unspoken statement that they were going to take the next step in their relationship. It had all started when Jane told Matthew her ex in-laws were taking the boys to France for a week and when Matthew had asked her to stay a few days with him at his house.

The guest's room was lovely as the rest of the house Jane had already seen. The bed looked quite comfortable and the furniture looked expensive.

"Anna had something for decoration. She could transform cheap, old furniture into this," said Matthew pointing at the wardrobe. "When we moved here this house was nothing but dull, empty rooms and the floor was ruined. It was all I could pay for in that moment, but she had it remodelled completely."

Jane smiled tenderly at him. "She had a good taste."

"Hmm."

"Show me your room."

"What?"

Jane smirked. "Your room. I'd like to see your room."

Matthew's room was completely different from the others. There were a big bed, two bedside tables, a full body mirror and a wardrobe. In one corner were a desk and a chair. The desk was filed with papers, books, pens and his laptop.

"It's a bit... messy, I know."

"It's perfect," said Jane, placing her hands on Matthew's chest and kissing him.

The kiss was soft, tender, even shy. But when Jane put her hands on his neck and pulled him closer and deepened the kiss, Matthew embraced Jane tightly and pushed her until both fell on the big bed. Jane was lying across the bed with Matthew on top of her. The kiss became passionate, deep, almost erratic and both didn't want to let go of each other because they felt their lives depended on it, on that kiss that was keeping them on the edge.

Jane moaned against Matthew's lips when she felt his hardness being pressed against her thighs and his soft, warm hands pulling at her shirt, trying to pull up her skirt, caressing her bare legs.

"Mmm..."

"Jane, I need you," whispered he, breaking the kiss and looking straight into her blue eyes.

Jane took a deep breath. She felt on fire. She needed Matthew because their kisses and his soft touches weren't enough anymore. She wanted to reciprocate his feelings and it had been a while since she had decided to let go of her past and try, seriously and definitely, to rebuild her life, find a new love and finally be happy. She knew she had to let go of that past that she didn't regret, not a bit of it. Her past had given her two lovely children that she loved, adored with all her heart. Her past had taught her what love was and what love feels like in her heart. Her past had given her Sherlock and her past had also taken him away from her, for what she believed, would be forever.

Jane started undoing the first buttons of Matthew's shirt. "Make love to me."

Matthew kissed her softly.

"I need you, Matthew. Please, make _love_ to me."


	13. Love Me Tender

* * *

_Matthew pressed soft kisses to Jane's scarred shoulder. "What happened, love?"_

_"It was my husband," Jane_ _admitted_ _, still with her back to him. "He hit me when I was expecting Hamish."_

* * *

Matthew kissed Jane softly as he lay on his back next to her. They were catching their breaths when Jane covered her naked body with a white sheet and turned to her side. She pressed a hand to her chest and felt her heart still pounding hard. Jane let out a tired sigh. Matthew had been amazing. He had been soft, tender, loving, caring, sweet. They had explored the other's body body, they had caressed every inch of each other and both had softly moaned each other's names.

Matthew had made Jane realise how much she needed him - how much she had needed him.

"Are you okay?" he asked, spooning her and pressing soft kisses to her neck after a long moment of silence.

Jane turned a bit breathless when she felt Matthew's strong arms around her waist. "Hmm."

"I'll make us some dinner. What do you want to eat?"

"Nothing," Jane whispered as she placed her slender hand over Matthew's. "Stay. Please, stay."

"Of course."

They lay there in silence for long minutes. Matthew kept on pressing kisses to Jane's neck, to her back, to her shoulders and to every naked place he found within his reach as he caressed her belly, her ribs, her breasts, her legs with his long, warm hands. Jane just closed her eyes and let him touch her. It had been a very long time since she felt like this, loved, desired by a man, caressed.

Matthew knew how and where to touch her. Jane knew Matthew only wanted to make her feel special, but she couldn't help but remember Sherlock. Jane couldn't help but remember Sherlock touching her, kissing her, making love to her and whispering sweet things to her ear while they were making love. It wasn't fair for Matthew. But Jane hadn't thought of Sherlock when Matthew made love to her. She had moaned, panted Matthew's name.

It wasn't until Matthew pressed a kiss to her scarred shoulder when he asked her about it.

"Car accident. Harry was drunk," Jane said softly.

Matthew frowned. "Harry?"

"My sister."

"You've got a sister?"

Jane nodded. "Haven't seen her since... since my dad died."

"I'm sorry. But... you've got recent scars too. What happened, love?"

"It was my husband," Jane admitted, still with her back to him. "Sherlock hit me when I was expecting Hamish."

Suddenly, Matthew felt Jane's heart beat faster at the mention of Sherlock and what he had done. The doctor felt his own heart sinking. He had always thought of Sherlock Holmes as a good man. Jane never talked much about him, but the few things Hamish said about him and the few things he had heard from Greg or Mrs Hudson were good, so he had always imagined that Sherlock Holmes had been a sweet, goodhearted man who loved his family. But when Jane told him he had hurt her, Matthew felt angry.

"What?" Matthew's voice was soft, but the anger and disbelief seeped through.

Jane closed her eyes, remembering that night.

 _"Tell me that's not - please Sherlock tell me you're not -"_  
 _  
_ _"Shut up! This is your fault!" Sherlock_ _yelled_ _, and when Jane tried to pull him away, he quickly reached out her arm and shoved her against the wall._  
 _  
_ _"Tell me that's not yours, please tell me that's not yours," Jane_ _begged_ _, completely ignoring the blood on her head, which was falling down her left temple. Seeing this, Sherlock pressed her strongly against the wall not caring at all, making the cut behind her head deeper._  
 _  
_ _As he was taller and stronger than her, it was impossible for Jane to escape. Her_ _eyes_ _were full of tears and Sherlock didn't seem to_ _care_ _. He had an arm on each side of her head and she knew it was going to be impossible to escape. She looked into his eyes and understood. Sherlock was high. And he probably didn't know what he was doing._  
 _  
_ _"What if it's mine?" snapped Sherlock._  
 _  
_ _"Please Sherlock, let me go."_  
 _  
_ _He smiled at her, darkly. "Why should I? You're my wife. You belong to me."_  
 __  
Sherlock had slapped her, he had shoved her against the wall and he had pressed his whole body over hers making her uterus collapse and consequently she bled severely. She had been losing Hamish when Sherlock had tried to take her without her consent. Sherlock had called her a slut. Sherlock had slapped her hard across the face, and he also told her he would have to teach her a lesson because it was her fault he was doing drugs.

And all that, just because of cocaine. Sherlock was not thinking about his actions when he hurt Jane in the most unforgivable way a man can possibly hurt a woman.

"I saw him injecting himself cocaine... it was late and I couldn't sleep," Jane whispered, as some tears started rolling down her face. "I was almost seven months pregnant when he hit me."

Matthew held her tightly. "It's okay. You don't need to talk about this -"

"No," Jane said, turning to him. She buried her face into his chest and sobbed heavily. "I need you to know. I want you to know all about me. About my past."

The doctor nodded.

"He shoved me against the walls two times before pushing me to the sofa. He jumped over me and... I was bleeding when he tried to-to take me. He slapped me and called me a 'slut' because Hamish wasn't..." Jane trailed off and wiped the tears off her face. "I tried to get some help when he pushed me down the stairs."

Matthew kissed her softly and held her tightly in his arms. "But... what happened then?"

"Mycroft knew what happened. Don't ask me how, but he knew and he came to the flat with an ambulance. When I woke up I was at a hospital with guards outside my room. I never knew Sherlock did drugs. But Mycroft told me it was getting out of Sherlock's hands... I asked him to take Sherlock to rehab, far away from me and Hamish." Jane held Matthew's hand tightly when she remembered herself carrying semtex all around her body. "Sherlock's enemy kidnapped me and I almost lost Hamish in a swimming pool. Sher-Sherlock ran after him and he left me alone... God, he was so high..."

"Sherlock's enemy?" Matthew asked, confusion written all over his face.

Jane nodded. "You don't know who Sherlock Holmes was, do you?"

"I thought he was... I don't know, someone like Mycroft? A politician?"

"Not at all," whispered Jane. "Though I would have wished he was one of them. Sherlock was a consulting detective."

Soon Matthew started to remember. He had heard something about a man working for the police... he had read something in the papers but he had been abroad at that moment. "That's why... he worked with Greg, didn't he?"

Jane nodded. "Moriarty was his enemy. He kidnapped me to get Sherlock."

"And what happened to you?"

"Greg found me and took me to hospital. I got into labour, it was too early..." Jane started crying again. "Hamish had a heart attack and he almost died."

Matthew couldn't help but feel angry. He knew it was still too early, too soon to say Sherlock Holmes had been a bad man, but God, he had hurt Jane and Hamish! His own wife and his own son! How Jane could have possibly forgiven him?

"And where was Sherlock?"

Jane shrugged. "I knew nothing about him for weeks until he went to the hospital and threatened me with a gun. He was so high... He begged me to come back to him. Greg found us just in time and arrested him. The last thing I knew was that Mycroft took him away. He wouldn't tell me where... but at least I knew he was going to get better. I didn't know about him for almost three years until he came back. He got clean and asked me for a second chance."

"So you forgave him and got married to him again?"

"Yes," Jane admitted, smiling a little at the good memory. "We conceived Locky and we were a family again. Sherlock was clean and he was working... he loved Hamish and," Jane closed her eyes. "Moriarty was back. He had promised to burn Sherlock... to kill him and... I still don't know what happened, but suddenly everyone knew Moriarty was not real. That he was an actor Sherlock had hired to show off."

Matthew looked into Jane's eyes and felt so sad for her. "Was that true?"

"No. I knew Sherlock, he was my husband. I knew he wouldn't have done that."

"Moriarty killed him?"

Jane shook her head. "Sherlock killed himself in front of me."

"What!?" Matthew asked, eyes wide.

"He jumped off Bart's rooftop. I saw him. I saw him falling and God," Jane sobbed heavily against Matthew's chest, "I saw his body hitting the street, Matthew. I-I-I took his pulse and he was dead."

The doctor held her tightly and started pressing soft, calm kisses to her lips, but Jane pulled him away.

"Jane, it's okay. Don't cry -"

"He killed himself because of me! It was my fault!"

"You did noth -"

Matthew sat up on the bed and tried to touch her, to hold her in his arms but Jane pulled him away. "You don't know that! I wasn't good enough for him! I wasn't clever... I couldn't love him as he wanted me to... I couldn't give him the family he needed."

"But love, why are you saying this? You gave him Hamish and Locky, and you're the cleverest woman I've ever met! You are an amazing mother and a wonderful woman," Matthew said, taking her hand, "He was very lucky to be your husband."

Jane held his hand tightly when she knew she had to tell Matthew the truth. She had seen him looking at Hamish and Locky. Jane knew Matthew sometimes wondered why her children were completely different and yet a bit alike sometimes.

"Hamish is not Sherlock's son."

Matthew didn't say a word. He only let Jane talk. He had seen some huge differences between Hamish and Locky. Hamish was small for his age, he had fair, soft curls and round cheeks while Locky was bigger for his age, he had wild, dark curls and grey-blue eyes and sharp cheekbones. Sometimes they looked very alike, especially when Jane dressed them with the same clothes but in different colours, but sometimes they were the day and the night, two very different children. The doctor believed it was because Hamish looked a lot like Jane and Locky like 'their' father. But now he understood.

"I was seventeen when I got pregnant of my first boyfriend. When I told him he ran away and I didn't know what to do. I knew that my mother would make me have an abortion or give my baby up for adoption. Sherlock was my best friend, we were so close. He told everyone it was his baby and married me so I could keep Hamish. That's why... I think that's why he did drugs. He loved Hamish, when he was still a baby inside me, but deep inside Sherlock was hurt because he would never be Hamish's real father. Sherlock blamed himself until his last moments for Hamish's hearing problems, because of his heart condition and his developmental delay."

"I'm so sorry, Jane," Matthew whispered, and he pressed soft kisses to her forehead. "Don't cry, love. Please, don't cry."

Jane told Matthew about how Sherlock's parents got close to her again when Sherlock got himself clean. Jane also told him of how tender, sweet and good man Sherlock was and all the things he had left when he committed suicide, which were not only money and properties but two little children as well.

"I thought I'd never find love again," Jane whispered hoarsely, wrapping her arms around Matthew's neck. "I can't believe I've found someone like you. You're so good to me and my children."

Matthew gently pushed against Jane's shoulders until she was lying on her back and he was between her thighs. He kissed her softly but then their kiss turned out to be passionate and deep.

He ran a hand through her soft sandy hair and smiled. "I love you. I won't let anyone hurt you again. I promise."

"Many people have promised things to me. And all of them lied."

"I'm not lying," he said, smiling softly at her, "I want to make you happy. Please, Jane… Let me love you."


	14. So Close and Yet So Far Away

_Hamish took Matthew's hand. "He's Matthew. He's my doctor and mummy's boyfriend."_

_Jane looked away, not being able to face Sherlock's headstone._

_"He's very nice and I love him!"_

* * *

As soon as Jane looked at her marks she smiled happily, almost relieved. She had passed her last exam before the summer holidays and she was so happy. Matthew had helped her to study and she knew that if it hadn't been for him and his kind self and his time, she wouldn't have passed the exam with top marks.

In the corridor was Matthew, sitting on a chair, waiting for her and holding a bouquet of white roses.

"Congratulations, love!"

Jane closed her eyes when she felt Matthew's warmth as he embraced her on a tight hug and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. She felt so secure in his arms, so happy, so in peace.

"Thank you. I passed this exam because of you," said she, taking the flowers and leading the way through the corridors.

"We're going out tonight to celebrate. I'm taking you to a nice restaurant and then we'll go back home and..."

They were close to press their mouths together when both ran into a faired haired woman wearing a white coat.

"Jane."

It was Molly Hooper.

Jane smiled at Molly honestly. "Molly! God, it's good to see you. It's been so long..."

The last time Jane and Molly saw each other was the day Sherlock committed suicide. Molly was wearing a pair of gloves stained with Sherlock's blood. She was standing next to Sherlock's lifeless body when she asked Jane is she wanted to see him.

It had been more than a year since they last saw each other.

Molly had to avoid Jane everywhere because she felt guilty. She knew Sherlock was not dead. Molly knew how Sherlock had survived and she knew Sherlock was fighting for his family, for Jane, for Hamish and for that baby Molly had never met but heard was the copy of his father.

However, Molly ran into Jane and she couldn't help but stare at her and at the man who was holding her hand and who looked like a copy of Sherlock Holmes. Molly knew who this man was; it was the famous Doctor Morstan, famous among the young female staff of Bart's for being 'the most handsome doctor in the whole hospital'. Doctor Morstan had dark, slightly curly hair, blue eyes and he was as tall and as handsome as Sherlock was. Nevertheless, Molly knew she didn't need to be Sherlock Holmes or have his deductive skills to see this man was someone special. He was holding Jane's hand, their fingers were entangled. Both looked happy and complete in each other's company. Jane was holding a beautiful bouquet of flowers and she looked so different from that Jane Molly remembered. Jane was wearing now a dress, her hair was long, loose falling over her back and she was even wearing make up and lipstick.

Molly remembered Jane looked helplessly sad, miserable, broken.

Now Jane looked happy in love _again_.

Molly had heard the rumours saying Doctor Morstan was dating a student ten years younger than him. Molly had paid little attention to this, but most of her classmates gossiped and commented Doctor Morstan was the most handsome doctor but now he was taken, that his girlfriend was pretty.

Molly realised Jane was the student most girls talked about and most girls were jealous of; she was Doctor Morstan's girlfriend.

"Jane, hi..."

Jane noticed Molly was looking at Matthew confusedly, almost awkwardly - wondering who he was and why he was holding her hand.

"Molly, this is Matthew, my boyfriend," said Jane, smiling at Molly and then turned to Matthew. "This is Molly. We went to school together."

Matthew extended his hand and Molly accepted it. She clumsily shook hands with the paediatrician and smiled at them awkwardly. "I heard you-you had a baby boy."

Jane nodded and smiled fondly at Molly. "Yes. His name is Sherlock."

"Sherlock?"

"Yes."

"That's... good. I'd like to see him one day," Molly said. "But I-I have to... I've got to clean some labs. It was nice to see you, Jane."

Jane noticed there was something wrong with Molly. Suddenly Molly wouldn't meet her eyes and she only stared at the floor.

"Oh. It was nice to see you too, Molly."

Molly turned and left. She had tears in her eyes. She felt sad, but also guilty because she knew Sherlock was alive. She knew he was fighting for Jane and their children and now Jane was seeing someone else. Molly knew it was not Jane's fault. Sherlock had insisted in convincing Jane he was dead.

Molly just wished Sherlock would come back soon.

Before things got worst.

* * *

 

While Locky and Hamish were with their grandparents in France, Jane stayed at Matthew's and they got to know each other even more. There were days in which Jane would wait for him with a nice dinner with candles, sometimes she would surprise him in the morning with breakfast in bed and when it was Matthew's day off, he would take her out to the cinema, to some nice restaurant or they would simply stay at home and lie in each other's arms.

Jane loved Matthew's company. He was tender, loving, caring, sweet. Matthew was all Jane needed. Soon Jane would feel cold if Matthew wasn't holding her tightly in his strong arms. Matthew had something Jane couldn't lay a finger on; something that made him so special and yet someone who had probably come from another planet. Doctor Morstan was funny, sweet, he cooked the most delicious things ever and he was so lovely.

There was something about Matthew that made Jane realise she needed him. That she suddenly wanted to share everything with him.

Jane wrapped herself with Matthew's dressing gown and sat on the bed. She looked at the sleeping form next to her. Matthew looked like an angel when he was sleeping; his dark curls were falling over his ears, over his forehead and his cheeks were lightly blushed. Jane ran a finger over the muscles of his back, of his strong arms and kissed the skin there.

"I was dreaming about you," whispered Matthew as he rubbed his eyes with the back of his hands trying to stay awake.

Jane smiled. She pressed a soft kiss to his lips and started folding her clothes and placing them into her bag. "I have to go soon."

"I'll miss you."

"Hey, we're not breaking up. I'm just going home with my kids. We'll see each other, right?"

Matthew smiled and started getting dressed. "I'll take you home."

"I can take a cab."

"Please, let me go with you. I'd like to see the kids."

Jane, once she had finished packing her clothes, kissed him softly. "I love you."

It was the first time Jane told Matthew she loved him. Jane felt Matthew catching his breath and looking into her blue eyes. Soon his strong arms circled her waist and he held her tightly, as if his life depended on Jane.

Matthew knew she meant it. She had to because Matthew knew otherwise, Jane wouldn't have said so. Jane was a honest woman and Matthew knew she would never lie to him.

"I love you too, Jane. With all my heart. Forever."

Jane held his hand and kissed his lips.

* * *

 

As soon as Hamish and Locky saw their mummy again, both ran to her and they practically fought for who was going to hug their mummy first. Hamish allowed Locky to hug their mummy first just because he was the little one, but as soon as his baby brother stepped back, Hamish threw his arms around Jane and pressed kissed her. There were little tears in Hamish's eyes as soon as he saw his mummy again after spending a week with his grandparents in France.

"Mummy I missed you!"

Jane smiled, pressing Hamish's head against her chest. "I missed you too, Hamish. I missed you so much. Did you enjoy your holidays?"

"Yes!" Hamish then turned to Matthew, who was standing next to his mummy. "Hello Doct- Matthew!"

"Hello poppet! I missed you. Did you miss me?"

Hamish nodded and hugged him too. "Yes!"

Matthew hugged both kids and the four of them had dinner together. He cooked while Jane spent more time with her children and asked them about the good time they had with their grandparents. Hamish told Jane and Matthew all about their holidays, about the nice house Nan Lizzie and Grandpa Richard had, about Paris and how funny the people there spoke and about all the new toys and things his grandparents had bought for him and his little brother.

"Nan Lizzie said these were daddy's," said Hamish showing Jane and Matthew a few books about insects and different animals. "She said I can keep 'em."

Jane smiled. "These are lovely."

"Mummy..." Hamish hesitated for a moment, until Jane held his little hand, somehow encouraging him to speak and say whatever he wanted or needed to say. "Can we visit daddy? Please?"

"Of course. We can go tomorrow if you want."

Hamish turned to Matthew. "Can Matthew come too, so daddy meets him?"

Matthew and Jane exchanged looks.

"We'll see," said Jane kissing her son's curls.

A few moments later both Hamish and Locky were sleeping in their respective beds upstairs when Matthew got himself ready to leave. He was kissing Jane goodbye when she asked him to go with her and the kids to the cemetery the following day.

"I don't think I should."

Jane pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Please."

Matthew couldn't say no to Jane. He had done everything she had asked him to; he had wait for her until she felt ready to make love again, among other things but this, going with her and the children to the cemetery to visit Sherlock Holmes grave was too much. Matthew felt as if he was not ready to do that yet, to join Jane and Hamish and Locky in such intimate, private moment - visiting Sherlock's grave.

The doctor was still angry for what Sherlock had done to Jane, for hurting her in such a way, in the most unforgivable way a man can possibly hurt a woman. Matthew was a paediatrician and he knew that that violence, Sherlock's hands on Jane's body were what made her get into labour before time and caused Hamish's problems now.

Matthew still couldn't understand how and why Jane forgave Sherlock and had another child with the man who hurt, not only her, but her first son as well.

But as it is believed, the heart has reasons that reasons does not understand.

"Please, love," insisted Jane, pressing soft kissed to his neck.

Matthew couldn't help but say yes.

* * *

 

Matthew couldn't help but feel himself uncomfortable whilst standing in front of Sherlock Holmes' grave. He looked at the dark headstone, slightly dusty, and noticed it had some scratching marks. The name was the only thing engraved that said it was the grave of Sherlock Holmes, where his body was buried six feet under.

Hamish was the first one getting close to the headstone. The five-year-old boy placed a bunch of white roses and a new picture he had coloured himself. Locky only stared at the dark headstone confusedly and remained is position next to Jane.

"Locky, daddy's 'ere," Hamish said to his little brother, pointing at the dark headstone. "Look!"

Locky didn't move. He looked at his brother and then at his mummy curiously.

"He can't understand yet. He's very little," explained Jane.

Hamish sat on the green grass and talked to the headstone, not really minding Jane and Matthew were standing behind him. Hamish told his daddy Sherlock about school, about France, about his grandparents, his uncle Mycroft and about Locky who was learning his first words. Hamish told Sherlock about Mrs Hudson friends who liked to kiss him far too much on the cheeks every time they went to visit the landlady on their knitting nights and about Greg and his stories about bad guys and thieves.

"I miss you daddy," said Hamish and Jane and Matthew exchanged looks. The grip on Matthew's hand tightened, and the doctor only pressed a soft kiss to Jane's forehead. "But I'm very happy 'cause Locky talks and we play all the time! He can say daddy, look!" Hamish turned to his little brother. "Locky, say 'daddy'."

"Daddy!"

Hamish smiled at the headstone. "See? He can say 'daddy'!"

Locky sat next to his big brother. "Mish... daddy, daddy, daddy!"

Hamish stood up and took Matthew's free hand. "This is Matthew. He's my doctor and mummy's boyfriend."

Jane looked away, not being able to face Sherlock's headstone.

"He's very nice and I love him," confessed Hamish to the headstone, still pretending his daddy was there listening to him. "And we play football too!"

"I think it's time to go back home, Hamish," said Jane pressing a kiss to Hamish's forehead. "Say goodbye to daddy."

Hamish pressed a kiss to Sherlock's headstone. "Goodbye daddy!"

Locky waved his hand to the dark headstone and before they could leave, Matthew held Jane's hand. "Stay."

"Matthew..."

The doctor caressed her cheek softly. "I know you need a moment alone," whispered Matthew to Jane's ear and kissed her lips. "Take all the time you need."

"Thank you."

Jane watched Matthew carrying Locky in his arms and taking Hamish's hand, taking them to the car and as soon as them were out of earshot, Jane fixated her eyes on Sherlock's headstone. She let out some silent tears and quickly wiped them off her face.

"I don't have much to say, Hamish told you everything," Jane said softly.

Jane looked at the fourth finger of her left hand. She knew she was not wearing her wedding ring. She had stopped wearing them long months ago by now. Jane realised she had nothing that attached her to her past, to Sherlock. She still had two children that were his - their children, but besides them, she had nothing else.

Or that's what she thought.

"Matthew makes me so happy... he's so good to the boys."

The last time Jane had been to Sherlock's grave, she had thrown rocks to the headstone. She had promised Sherlock that if Hamish died, she would never forgive him. She was angry with Sherlock. Jane was hurt, left alone, desperate, helpless. But now she felt in peace. Hamish and Locky were healthy, safe. She had Matthew, who loved her and her children. She had someone who was _protecting_ her and keeping her safe and loved. Jane wasn't hurt anymore.

And she had finally accepted that maybe it was in her destiny to lose Sherlock. Maybe he wasn't meant to her.

"I just hope... I just hope you're happy wherever you are now. I want you to know that I'll never forget you, Sherlock. You'll be in my heart _forever_ ," Jane said softly. "Goodbye."

What Jane ignored because she really didn't know was that her husband was not buried six feet under but alive and miles and miles away from her.

Sherlock was walking along the crowded streets of a sunny, hot and not so friendly city. Sherlock was lost in he heart of Europe. He had dyed his hair and he was now a ginger. He had grown a beard that surprisingly enough matched his new hair colour.

Sherlock felt thirsty, hungry. He hadn't had a proper meal in days, weeks more likely. His clothes felt heavy over his body and for the first time in his life Sherlock felt what was having nothing in his pockets. He was not 'Sherlock Holmes' anymore. He was only a man who looked more like a homeless more than the wealthy man he had been before 'dying'.

He noticed how people looked at him, with pity, wondering what could possibly be happening to him.

If only they knew he had just killed two men who ruled an illegal brothel, kidnapped women and threatened them and also sold drugs.

Sherlock had seen a table and mountains of cocaine. He had run his fingers over those white mountains of powder that he knew were so tasty, magnificent. Sherlock had tasted cocaine in every possible way and he had experienced how his mind worked when he was high, when the cocaine was running down his system.

He remembered he had a wife and two kids. Sherlock remembered he had a family he ought to come back to soon. Sherlock knew he couldn't relapse. Sherlock knew he had to fight for them. He had to finish with Moriarty's empire and go back to his family.

_A year and a half._

The detective felt so close. Sherlock felt so close to finally end the job, go back home to Jane, Hamish and little Sherlock.

Sherlock felt so close and yet so far away.


	15. I'll Cry Instead

_Hamish took Matthew's hand. "He's Matthew. He's my doctor and mummy's boyfriend."_

_Jane looked away, not being able to face Sherlock's headstone._

_"He's very nice and I love him!"_

* * *

As soon as Jane looked at her marks she smiled happily, almost relieved. She had passed her last exam before the summer holidays and she was so happy. Matthew had helped her to study and she knew that if it hadn't been for him and his kind self and his time, she wouldn't have passed the exam with top marks.

In the corridor was Matthew, sitting on a chair, waiting for her and holding a bouquet of white roses.

"Congratulations, love!"

Jane closed her eyes when she felt Matthew's warmth as he embraced her on a tight hug and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. She felt so secure in his arms, so happy, so in peace.

"Thank you. I passed this exam because of you," said she, taking the flowers and leading the way through the corridors.

"We're going out tonight to celebrate. I'm taking you to a nice restaurant and then we'll go back home and..."

They were close to press their mouths together when both ran into a faired haired woman wearing a white coat.

"Jane."

It was Molly Hooper.

Jane smiled at Molly honestly. "Molly! God, it's good to see you. It's been so long..."

The last time Jane and Molly saw each other was the day Sherlock committed suicide. Molly was wearing a pair of gloves stained with Sherlock's blood. She was standing next to Sherlock's lifeless body when she asked Jane is she wanted to see him.

It had been more than a year since they last saw each other.

Molly had to avoid Jane everywhere because she felt guilty. She knew Sherlock was not dead. Molly knew how Sherlock had survived and she knew Sherlock was fighting for his family, for Jane, for Hamish and for that baby Molly had never met but heard was the copy of his father.

However, Molly ran into Jane and she couldn't help but stare at her and at the man who was holding her hand and who looked like a copy of Sherlock Holmes. Molly knew who this man was; it was the famous Doctor Morstan, famous among the young female staff of Bart's for being 'the most handsome doctor in the whole hospital'. Doctor Morstan had dark, slightly curly hair, blue eyes and he was as tall and as handsome as Sherlock was. Nevertheless, Molly knew she didn't need to be Sherlock Holmes or have his deductive skills to see this man was someone special. He was holding Jane's hand, their fingers were entangled. Both looked happy and complete in each other's company. Jane was holding a beautiful bouquet of flowers and she looked so different from that Jane Molly remembered. Jane was wearing now a dress, her hair was long, loose falling over her back and she was even wearing make up and lipstick.

Molly remembered Jane looked helplessly sad, miserable, broken.

Now Jane looked happy in love _again_.

Molly had heard the rumours saying Doctor Morstan was dating a student ten years younger than him. Molly had paid little attention to this, but most of her classmates gossiped and commented Doctor Morstan was the most handsome doctor but now he was taken, that his girlfriend was pretty.

Molly realised Jane was the student most girls talked about and most girls were jealous of; she was Doctor Morstan's girlfriend.

"Jane, hi..."

Jane noticed Molly was looking at Matthew confusedly, almost awkwardly - wondering who he was and why he was holding her hand.

"Molly, this is Matthew, my boyfriend," said Jane, smiling at Molly and then turned to Matthew. "This is Molly. We went to school together."

Matthew extended his hand and Molly accepted it. She clumsily shook hands with the paediatrician and smiled at them awkwardly. "I heard you-you had a baby boy."

Jane nodded and smiled fondly at Molly. "Yes. His name is Sherlock."

"Sherlock?"

"Yes."

"That's... good. I'd like to see him one day," Molly said. "But I-I have to... I've got to clean some labs. It was nice to see you, Jane."

Jane noticed there was something wrong with Molly. Suddenly Molly wouldn't meet her eyes and she only stared at the floor.

"Oh. It was nice to see you too, Molly."

Molly turned and left. She had tears in her eyes. She felt sad, but also guilty because she knew Sherlock was alive. She knew he was fighting for Jane and their children and now Jane was seeing someone else. Molly knew it was not Jane's fault. Sherlock had insisted in convincing Jane he was dead.

Molly just wished Sherlock would come back soon.

Before things got worst.

* * *

 

While Locky and Hamish were with their grandparents in France, Jane stayed at Matthew's and they got to know each other even more. There were days in which Jane would wait for him with a nice dinner with candles, sometimes she would surprise him in the morning with breakfast in bed and when it was Matthew's day off, he would take her out to the cinema, to some nice restaurant or they would simply stay at home and lie in each other's arms.

Jane loved Matthew's company. He was tender, loving, caring, sweet. Matthew was all Jane needed. Soon Jane would feel cold if Matthew wasn't holding her tightly in his strong arms. Matthew had something Jane couldn't lay a finger on; something that made him so special and yet someone who had probably come from another planet. Doctor Morstan was funny, sweet, he cooked the most delicious things ever and he was so lovely.

There was something about Matthew that made Jane realise she needed him. That she suddenly wanted to share everything with him.

Jane wrapped herself with Matthew's dressing gown and sat on the bed. She looked at the sleeping form next to her. Matthew looked like an angel when he was sleeping; his dark curls were falling over his ears, over his forehead and his cheeks were lightly blushed. Jane ran a finger over the muscles of his back, of his strong arms and kissed the skin there.

"I was dreaming about you," whispered Matthew as he rubbed his eyes with the back of his hands trying to stay awake.

Jane smiled. She pressed a soft kiss to his lips and started folding her clothes and placing them into her bag. "I have to go soon."

"I'll miss you."

"Hey, we're not breaking up. I'm just going home with my kids. We'll see each other, right?"

Matthew smiled and started getting dressed. "I'll take you home."

"I can take a cab."

"Please, let me go with you. I'd like to see the kids."

Jane, once she had finished packing her clothes, kissed him softly. "I love you."

It was the first time Jane told Matthew she loved him. Jane felt Matthew catching his breath and looking into her blue eyes. Soon his strong arms circled her waist and he held her tightly, as if his life depended on Jane.

Matthew knew she meant it. She had to because Matthew knew otherwise, Jane wouldn't have said so. Jane was a honest woman and Matthew knew she would never lie to him.

"I love you too, Jane. With all my heart. Forever."

Jane held his hand and kissed his lips.

* * *

 

As soon as Hamish and Locky saw their mummy again, both ran to her and they practically fought for who was going to hug their mummy first. Hamish allowed Locky to hug their mummy first just because he was the little one, but as soon as his baby brother stepped back, Hamish threw his arms around Jane and pressed kissed her. There were little tears in Hamish's eyes as soon as he saw his mummy again after spending a week with his grandparents in France.

"Mummy I missed you!"

Jane smiled, pressing Hamish's head against her chest. "I missed you too, Hamish. I missed you so much. Did you enjoy your holidays?"

"Yes!" Hamish then turned to Matthew, who was standing next to his mummy. "Hello Doct- Matthew!"

"Hello poppet! I missed you. Did you miss me?"

Hamish nodded and hugged him too. "Yes!"

Matthew hugged both kids and the four of them had dinner together. He cooked while Jane spent more time with her children and asked them about the good time they had with their grandparents. Hamish told Jane and Matthew all about their holidays, about the nice house Nan Lizzie and Grandpa Richard had, about Paris and how funny the people there spoke and about all the new toys and things his grandparents had bought for him and his little brother.

"Nan Lizzie said these were daddy's," said Hamish showing Jane and Matthew a few books about insects and different animals. "She said I can keep 'em."

Jane smiled. "These are lovely."

"Mummy..." Hamish hesitated for a moment, until Jane held his little hand, somehow encouraging him to speak and say whatever he wanted or needed to say. "Can we visit daddy? Please?"

"Of course. We can go tomorrow if you want."

Hamish turned to Matthew. "Can Matthew come too, so daddy meets him?"

Matthew and Jane exchanged looks.

"We'll see," said Jane kissing her son's curls.

A few moments later both Hamish and Locky were sleeping in their respective beds upstairs when Matthew got himself ready to leave. He was kissing Jane goodbye when she asked him to go with her and the kids to the cemetery the following day.

"I don't think I should."

Jane pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Please."

Matthew couldn't say no to Jane. He had done everything she had asked him to; he had wait for her until she felt ready to make love again, among other things but this, going with her and the children to the cemetery to visit Sherlock Holmes grave was too much. Matthew felt as if he was not ready to do that yet, to join Jane and Hamish and Locky in such intimate, private moment - visiting Sherlock's grave.

The doctor was still angry for what Sherlock had done to Jane, for hurting her in such a way, in the most unforgivable way a man can possibly hurt a woman. Matthew was a paediatrician and he knew that that violence, Sherlock's hands on Jane's body were what made her get into labour before time and caused Hamish's problems now.

Matthew still couldn't understand how and why Jane forgave Sherlock and had another child with the man who hurt, not only her, but her first son as well.

But as it is believed, the heart has reasons that reasons does not understand.

"Please, love," insisted Jane, pressing soft kissed to his neck.

Matthew couldn't help but say yes.

* * *

 

Matthew couldn't help but feel himself uncomfortable whilst standing in front of Sherlock Holmes' grave. He looked at the dark headstone, slightly dusty, and noticed it had some scratching marks. The name was the only thing engraved that said it was the grave of Sherlock Holmes, where his body was buried six feet under.

Hamish was the first one getting close to the headstone. The five-year-old boy placed a bunch of white roses and a new picture he had coloured himself. Locky only stared at the dark headstone confusedly and remained is position next to Jane.

"Locky, daddy's 'ere," Hamish said to his little brother, pointing at the dark headstone. "Look!"

Locky didn't move. He looked at his brother and then at his mummy curiously.

"He can't understand yet. He's very little," explained Jane.

Hamish sat on the green grass and talked to the headstone, not really minding Jane and Matthew were standing behind him. Hamish told his daddy Sherlock about school, about France, about his grandparents, his uncle Mycroft and about Locky who was learning his first words. Hamish told Sherlock about Mrs Hudson friends who liked to kiss him far too much on the cheeks every time they went to visit the landlady on their knitting nights and about Greg and his stories about bad guys and thieves.

"I miss you daddy," said Hamish and Jane and Matthew exchanged looks. The grip on Matthew's hand tightened, and the doctor only pressed a soft kiss to Jane's forehead. "But I'm very happy 'cause Locky talks and we play all the time! He can say daddy, look!" Hamish turned to his little brother. "Locky, say 'daddy'."

"Daddy!"

Hamish smiled at the headstone. "See? He can say 'daddy'!"

Locky sat next to his big brother. "Mish... daddy, daddy, daddy!"

Hamish stood up and took Matthew's free hand. "This is Matthew. He's my doctor and mummy's boyfriend."

Jane looked away, not being able to face Sherlock's headstone.

"He's very nice and I love him," confessed Hamish to the headstone, still pretending his daddy was there listening to him. "And we play football too!"

"I think it's time to go back home, Hamish," said Jane pressing a kiss to Hamish's forehead. "Say goodbye to daddy."

Hamish pressed a kiss to Sherlock's headstone. "Goodbye daddy!"

Locky waved his hand to the dark headstone and before they could leave, Matthew held Jane's hand. "Stay."

"Matthew..."

The doctor caressed her cheek softly. "I know you need a moment alone," whispered Matthew to Jane's ear and kissed her lips. "Take all the time you need."

"Thank you."

Jane watched Matthew carrying Locky in his arms and taking Hamish's hand, taking them to the car and as soon as them were out of earshot, Jane fixated her eyes on Sherlock's headstone. She let out some silent tears and quickly wiped them off her face.

"I don't have much to say, Hamish told you everything," Jane said softly.

Jane looked at the fourth finger of her left hand. She knew she was not wearing her wedding ring. She had stopped wearing them long months ago by now. Jane realised she had nothing that attached her to her past, to Sherlock. She still had two children that were his - their children, but besides them, she had nothing else.

Or that's what she thought.

"Matthew makes me so happy... he's so good to the boys."

The last time Jane had been to Sherlock's grave, she had thrown rocks to the headstone. She had promised Sherlock that if Hamish died, she would never forgive him. She was angry with Sherlock. Jane was hurt, left alone, desperate, helpless. But now she felt in peace. Hamish and Locky were healthy, safe. She had Matthew, who loved her and her children. She had someone who was _protecting_ her and keeping her safe and loved. Jane wasn't hurt anymore.

And she had finally accepted that maybe it was in her destiny to lose Sherlock. Maybe he wasn't meant to her.

"I just hope... I just hope you're happy wherever you are now. I want you to know that I'll never forget you, Sherlock. You'll be in my heart _forever_ ," Jane said softly. "Goodbye."

What Jane ignored because she really didn't know was that her husband was not buried six feet under but alive and miles and miles away from her.

Sherlock was walking along the crowded streets of a sunny, hot and not so friendly city. Sherlock was lost in he heart of Europe. He had dyed his hair and he was now a ginger. He had grown a beard that surprisingly enough matched his new hair colour.

Sherlock felt thirsty, hungry. He hadn't had a proper meal in days, weeks more likely. His clothes felt heavy over his body and for the first time in his life Sherlock felt what was having nothing in his pockets. He was not 'Sherlock Holmes' anymore. He was only a man who looked more like a homeless more than the wealthy man he had been before 'dying'.

He noticed how people looked at him, with pity, wondering what could possibly be happening to him.

If only they knew he had just killed two men who ruled an illegal brothel, kidnapped women and threatened them and also sold drugs.

Sherlock had seen a table and mountains of cocaine. He had run his fingers over those white mountains of powder that he knew were so tasty, magnificent. Sherlock had tasted cocaine in every possible way and he had experienced how his mind worked when he was high, when the cocaine was running down his system.

He remembered he had a wife and two kids. Sherlock remembered he had a family he ought to come back to soon. Sherlock knew he couldn't relapse. Sherlock knew he had to fight for them. He had to finish with Moriarty's empire and go back to his family.

_A year and a half._

The detective felt so close. Sherlock felt so close to finally end the job, go back home to Jane, Hamish and little Sherlock.

Sherlock felt so close and yet so far away.


	16. My Little Child

_"Robbie said I was a-a-a retarded and Toby laughed at me 'cause of my..." Hamish broke in tears and Matthew held him tightly._

* * *

Matthew pulled the car and opened the back door. He took Hamish's hand to let him get off the car. Close to him was Jane, carrying Hamish's bag and making herself sure her son had everything he needed, that his cardigan was good, that his slightly curly wavy hair was properly combed.

It was Hamish's first day at primary school.

The boy had been quite excited, since the day Jane got him his new uniform, his bag, his books, pencils, crayons and all the things he would need. That day Hamish woke up early, had a good breakfast and asked his mummy countless questions about the new school, what he was going to do and about teachers.

Jane knew this was something exciting for Hamish - and for her as well, so she had been trying to get Hamish familiarised with the idea of going to school and what it meant. Jane read Hamish stories that she knew would help him to understand the meaning and the importance of going to school and she had told him about her experience too, about the schools she had been to and mostly important, Jane told Hamish nice stories that never included those awful classmates she had that used to bully her because of her limp or her scarred shoulder.

Jane straightened Hamish's blue cardigan. "Ready?"

"Yes!"

"We'll pick you up later, okay?" Jane said, kissing Hamish goodbye.

Matthew only patted Hamish's shoulder and smiled at him sincerely. "You'll do amazingly. You're very clever."

Hamish hugged his mummy and Matthew and got into school.

Hamish's first days at school were quiet, normal. Jane had decided to take less courses at university so she would have more time to focus on Hamish and help him with his homework and with anything else he would need help with because as Hamish suffered from developmental delay and there were no medicines that could help him to be as attentive as other children were, Jane knew her son was going to need more help and support than other kids usually need. However, Jane had to help Hamish more than she thought she would since her son found some things quite difficult to understand.

"H...A...M...I...S and... H?" Hamish asked almost unsure of his answer.

"Yes, well done!"

Weeks passed and Hamish was progressing. He was learning the numbers, the alphabet, and he knew how to write his whole name, 'Hamish Watson Holmes'. Jane finally thought her son didn't need much of her help now and she was quite happy for her child.

They had settled into a new routine now: Hamish went to school while Jane went to uni and Locky would stay under the care of Mrs Hudson or Elizabeth. Every morning Matthew stopped and picked Jane and Hamish to take the latter to school and then he and Jane would go to Bart's. If they had time, they would have a coffee together before Jane went to class and Matthew to work. Some days, when Jane left uni at the same time Matthew would finish his shift, they would pick Hamish up, go to Baker Street and have dinner together, Jane, her children and Matthew.

And there were days in which Jane had to stay at Bart's to do her practices so Matthew picked Hamish up from school and then he would take him to Baker Street - sometimes he would stay and keep an eye on him and Locky or sometimes he would leave the boy so Mrs Hudson would keep an eye on him until Jane was back home.

Jane was finishing her shift when she heard her phone going off.

_"Jane... I need you to come home."_

"I'll there in an hour. What happened?"

_"It's Hamish."_

Jane pressed her phone tight to her ear. "What happened? Is he okay?"

_"No. Apparently some kids had been telling him some awful things. He wouldn't stop crying when I picked him up."_

Jane left the hospital as soon as she could and went back to Baker Street. There she found Matthew sitting on the sofa and Hamish next to him. His head was buried in the doctor's chest and he was crying. Mrs Hudson was also there, making tea for everyone and preparing Locky a baby bottle.

"Mish no cry!" Locky said trying to hug his big brother.

But Hamish wouldn't leave Matthew's side.

"What happened?"

Hamish didn't say anything.

"Hamish, I need you to tell me what happened so I can help you..." Jane whispered whilst sitting next to him. She looked into Matthew's eyes trying to find the answers, but the doctor looked quite angry.

Matthew was usually a calm man. He would always speak softly and calmly, and it was rare to see a frown between his eyebrows or his lips tightly closed but always curled upwards into a wide smile. So when Jane saw the anger in Matthew's eyes, she knew something bad had happened.

Hamish sniffed loudly and took deep breaths before speaking. "Robbie said I was a-a-a _retarded_ and Toby laughed at me 'cause of my..." Hamish broke in tears and Matthew held him tightly.

"It's okay, Hamish," Matthew said softly, rubbing the boy's back.

"Toby laughed 'cause I have this," Hamish pointed at his hearing aid. "and he called me 'deaf' _._ And then everyone called me 'retarded'... and they laughed..."

Jane felt her own heart twitching. "What?!"

Even Mrs Hudson was angry, mad. The landlady shook her head, she was so sad, and yet so angry for what those heartless kids did to Hamish.

"We must go and talk to the headmistress -"

Jane cut Matthew off. "Of course we're going! How dare they!" Then she turned to Hamish. "Did you tell the teacher?"

Hamish only nodded.

"And what did she say?"

The boy say nothing.

"Hamish... no one is mad at you, okay?" Matthew said softly. "Your mummy and I just want to help you so no one ever calls you things that are not true."

"But it is true! I'm _deaf_!" shouted Hamish with tears in his eyes. "And I'm a _retarded_ too!"

Jane held Hamish tightly in her arms whilst he cried for long minutes against her chest. Mrs Hudson stared at the scene in silence while feeding Locky who was sitting on her lap.

Matthew was standing in front of the mantelpiece, with his back to them and looking at the pictures there, especially at Sherlock's. The doctor wanted to bring Sherlock Holmes _back to life_ so he could see all the damage he was causing even after de had died. Matthew wanted to bring Sherlock Holmes _back to life_ so he could see how much Hamish was suffering because of him, because of the drugs and because of that night in which he made Hamish come to the world before time. Matthew Morstan was a paediatrician and he knew if Hamish hadn't been born before time, he would have been a very healthy boy.

"You're not deaf and you're not a retarded," Jane said firmly, fully convinced of her words. "Your right ear just doesn't work properly. And you're not different from the other kids -"

"Yes I am mummy! All the other kids can write words and they know lots of numbers and some can read too and I _can't_!"

Jane kissed Hamish's fair wavy hair. "Some things take time. Remember I told you I wasn't able to ride a bike until I was ten?" Hamish nodded. "See? Things take time. Some people can learn things faster than other people, okay?"

Hamish said nothing.

"Did your teacher say anything, Hamish?" Mrs Hudson asked.

"No."

Once the three the adults managed to get Hamish to eat something and once he was on bed calmly sleeping, Jane decided to go and talk to the headmistress. She was angry, so angry. She had discussed Hamish's problems and she was told Hamish was going to receive all the support he needed, that he was going to be looked after and that no one was going to make him feel different because of his problems, disabilities.

"I can't believe this!"

Matthew held Jane's hand. "Calm down."

"Calm down? They called my son 'retarded' and 'deaf' and the teacher didn't say anything! I'm not going to let anyone hurt my son!"

"It'll be all right. We'll go tomorrow and we'll fix this," Matthew whispered as he hugged Jane from behind. "Don't get mad, it's not good for your health."

Jane pinched the bridge of her nose. "I don't want him to suffer. He's not _different_..."

"Of course he's not. We'll fix this, I promise."

The following day Jane and Matthew went to Hamish's school and talked to the headmistress. Even when she assured them Hamish wasn't going to get bullied again, Jane knew she had to look for a new school for Hamish. That day Hamish didn't want to go to school and Jane was able to feel how tense and sad her eldest son felt. She only wanted him to go to a school where he could learn lots, make friends, have a normal life.

This was not fair for Hamish. He should have a normal life, he should have been able to run and practice lots of sports like anyone else but his weak heart forbade him from that. Hamish should have never got bullied because of his health problems.

Hamish was not to blame.

So eventually Jane had to look for a new school for Hamish.

"How was school, poppet?"

Hamish opened his bag and showed his mummy and Matthew his graded homework. "Look! Miss Johnson said my homework was amazing!"

"That's good, Hamish!"

Jane realised changing Hamish to another school was one of the best things she could have ever done. Hamish had made lots of friends, he didn't have much trouble with his homework and he liked his new teacher. None kid bullied him or said anything about his hearing aid or about his learning problems. Every time Hamish had problems or when he was confused, his teacher would help him. The teachers were always there to help Hamish every time he needed their help and now he was really improving his writing and learning skills and he could even read some words!

Matthew helped Hamish to get into the car. "Now, shall we go to the park and play football for a bit?"

"Yes, yes, yes!"

* * *

 

It was a cold morning when Matthew pulled the car and Jane and Hamish got inside. Hamish was happily reading a book in the back when the doctor pressed a kiss to Jane's cheek, but she didn't move. She only smiled and remained silent for the rest of the journey.

Once they left Hamish at school, they went to have breakfast together before Jane had to go to class and Matthew to work.

The doctor noticed Jane was pale, she was not even wearing lipstick as she always did and she was very quiet. She didn't speak unless Matthew asked her something.

"Love?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you okay?"

Jane nodded. "Yeah."

"Exam today?"

"No."

Matthew reached out for her hand and caressed her knuckles with his thumb. "Jane, what's wrong?"

"Today's two years."

It was a cold morning and it was slightly raining. It was a very light rain and Matthew and Jane were eating breakfast at a ccoffee just in front of the place Jane had seen Sherlock falling. The light rain reminded Jane of that morning in which Sherlock's lifeless body was lying on the pavement. It reminded her of that pool of his blood left once the paramedics took his body into the hospital to see if they could save him.

The doctor didn't know what to say. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

"Are you taking the kids to the cemetery today?"

Jane looked away. "I don't think so."

"I don't want to see you sad."

Jane said nothing.

"Do you want to have dinner with me tonight?"

"I'm having dinner with Elizabeth, Richard and Mycroft," Jane said softly. "I don't feel like going."

"Then don't go."

"I have to."

The doctor held her hand and entangled their fingers. "Don't do things you don't want to do."

"I do want to see them, they are, along with Greg and Mrs Hudson, the only family I have and they had always helped me. But..." Jane trailed off.

"I think they will like to see you and the kids today. Remember they had lost their son and Mycroft his brother. And Hamish and Locky are Sherlock's children. I believe they see Sherlock in them."

Jane smiled a bit. "You're right."

* * *

"How's university, Jane?"

Jane sipped more of her wine and smiled fondly to her ex father-in-law. "Good. Thanks for asking."

"Hamish had told us all about school. Apparently he's doing well," Elizabeth commented.

"Yes. He can read a bit and though he finds some things difficult to understand he works very hard and he's improving lots."

Mycroft curled his lips upwards. "I thought Doctor Morstan would join us tonight."

Jane felt, for the first time in months, like kicking Mycroft under the table like Sherlock used to do when he was a teenager.

"No, he's working early tomorrow," Jane explained.

"Oh don't worry dear, Doctor Morstan is always welcome here," Elizabeth said whilst looking at Mycroft with stern eyes. "Hamish and Locky are quite fond of him, aren't they?"

Jane nodded. "Yes. Yes they are. Matthew is so good to them."

"That's good, isn't it?" Mycroft said, cutting Jane off.

"You have been very fortunate to find such a great man, Jane. Doctor Morstan reminds me of Sherlock sometimes."

Elizabeth's words, even when she didn't mean it, felt like knives stabbing Jane's heart.

Some of her friends, Mycroft and now Elizabeth commented on how alike Sherlock and Matthew Morstan were. Even Jane knew it. The physical appearance, the clothes, the way they dressed and the hair and the eyes, was what made them look quite alike.

Jane knew both were sweet men. As Matthew, Sherlock had always been a sweet, caring, loving man - Sherlock was a most reserved man and he only showed affection when they were alone, within the walls of their flat, while Matthew would always hug her, kiss her, take her hand and tell her how much he loved her in front of everyone, Matthew never cared. While Sherlock liked to have a dangerous lifestyle, chasing criminals around the city, sometimes putting his own life at stakes and so on, Matthew liked the quiet life. He liked the country, he liked to have calm, peaceful afternoons reading, drinking tea, watching films.

Sherlock liked to be with Hamish, play games with him, play the violin for him but he didn't get to meet his baby, Locky. Matthew liked to be with both Hamish and Locky and to take them to the park, to the cinema, to walk around the city with them, read stories, and help them with whatever they needed help with.

Both were different when it came about feelings.

But yet both were very alike.

* * *

 

Jane looked at her watch. The roasted chicken on the table was cold by now and the boys were very hungry.

"Mummy, I'm hungry."

"'ungy! ungy, ungy, ungy!" said Hamish as he clapped his hands together from his place on his high chair.

It was a year since they have met and Jane had organised a nice dinner at her flat with her children to celebrate not only that, but also that Hamish had woken up from the coma . She had bought a bottle of good wine, she had put candles on the table and Jane was even wearing a nice dress and heels. Matthew was thirty minutes late, the food on the table was cold by now and Jane didn't know what had happened to him.

Jane glanced at her phone as soon as it went off.

_**Have to stay.** _

_**Emergency.** _

_**I'm sorry. Mxxx** _

Jane and the boys had a quiet dinner alone. She was a bit upset, but she knew Matthew had a job, that it was demanding and that patients always come first. Matthew was a paediatrician and she knew children needed him.

"Mummy, where's Matthew?"

"He's working."

Locky laughed "Matt w'kin'!"

Jane smiled at her youngest child. "Eat your food, Locky!"

The following morning, Matthew, as always, picked Jane and Hamish up to take them to school and uni respectively. He got off the car, said hello to Hamish and helped him to get inside when Jane noticed his bloodshot eyes and a tired expression on his face.

"Hey, good morning," Jane pressed a soft kiss to Matthew's lips and got into the car.

"I'm sorry about last night."

Jane placed a hand on his shoulder. "It's all right. Are you okay?"

"Just tired."

Once they left Hamish at school, Jane and Matthew were walking side by side, holding hands when Jane kissed him before getting into the car again. "I was wondering..." Jane pressed another kiss to his lips. "as I'm leaving early today..." another kiss. "Locky's staying at Elizabeth's and Hamish is at school..." another kiss. "if we could go to your place and celebrate that we met a year ago..."

Matthew moved away. "I can't."

Jane said nothing and got into the car. She noticed Matthew was acting strangely, that he looked very tired.

On the way to Bart's neither of them said a word. Jane read a bit while Matthew remained silent and tense.

"I'm covering another doctor who's on maternity leave. Sorry, love."

"It's okay."

"I'm sorry." Matthew insisted.

Jane kissed him. "It's all right."

* * *

"Matt?"

Jane continued reading. "Working."

"W'kin'?" Locky asked.

"Hmm."

Hamish started picking up his pencils from the floor after he had finished his homework. "When are we going to the park to play football, mummy?"

"I don't know, poppet."

"Have you and Matthew had a fight, dear?" Mrs Hudson asked worriedly as she placed a cup of tea next to Jane who was studying.

Jane looked at her landlady. "No. Why you ask?"

"It's been days since I last saw him."

"He's covering another doctor who's on maternity leave. He's just working too much I think."

Mrs Hudson looked at the boys going upstairs to their room. "He's a very good man, Jane."

"Yes, he is."

"Since you two have been dating you look happier," Mrs Hudson said with a smile. "I know you have had a hard time since Sherlock... you know." The landlady couldn't even complete her sentence. She had always been very fond of Sherlock - he had helped her to get rid of her husband who almost killed her.

Jane smiled at her landlady, at the woman she loved as if she were her mother. "You're right, things had not been easy... but Matthew helps me lots."

"I hope you two are very happy together."

"Thank you. I think we are, yes."

* * *

Jane ran her fingers through her hair and started walking towards the desk. She was going to pay Matthew a visit and she was going to invite him to have dinner with her. Mrs Hudson agreed to look after the kids so she would be able to go out with Matthew and finally celebrate they had met a year ago.

Still a week after that date, which was the same date when Hamish woke up from the coma, and Jane and Matthew didn't see each other not even to have a cup of coffee together. Every time Jane called he was either busy, driving, sleeping or he was working two shifts.

"Good afternoon, can I help you?" a strange woman said.

Jane was expecting to meet that old lady, Ms Potter, Matthew's secretary, but not this woman.

Jane felt speechless for a moment.

This woman was beautiful. Her hair was brownish, curled and combed to one side. She had freckles all over her nose and cheeks, almond shaped green eyes and the eyeliner and the mascara made them look bigger, almost hypnotising. Her lips were full, red painted and she was slender - her body was perfect. Her legs were long and she was wearing a pencil skirt - tight in the right places and a transparent dark shirt.

Her high heels only made her look perfect.

Jane frowned. And where was that old lady, Ms Potter? Who was this new woman?

"Um... can I see Doctor Morstan, please?"

The young woman batted her eyelashes and glanced at the computer screen. " _Matthew_ is with a patient now. You can have a seat and wait or make an appointment for next week."

Now Jane was angry. Why was this woman calling Matthew by his first name?

"At what time is _Matthew_ leaving?"

"I'm sorry Mrs..."

" _Miss_ Watson." Jane said.

"I'm sorry, _Miss_ Watson, but I can't give you that information."

Jane bit her lower lip. "I'm Matthew's _girlfriend_. Can you please let him know I'm here when he finishes with his patient?"

The woman smiled at her politely, though Jane knew it was a fake smile. She dialled the number and waited. "Matthew... yes, have you finished?... Because here Miss Watson would like to see you... okay."

"So?"

The secretary smiled, another faked smile. "He says you can go in."

"Thank you."

Jane went to Matthew's office and got inside without even knocking the door. She found Matthew sitting on his chair behind his desk, filling in some charts and looking quite exhausted.

"Hey."

He smiled. "Hi. How are you, darling?"

"Good. How are you?"

"Knackered."

Jane sat on his lap, stranding his hips and pressed a kiss to his lips. "I've missed you."

"I've missed you," the doctor said, deepening the kiss. "So much."

"Let's go. I've booked us a table at a nice restaurant. Mrs Hudson is looking after the boys tonight."

"Jane..."

She smiled at him and pressed more kisses to the doctor's neck. "Then we can go to your place. Would you like that?"

"Yes."

Jane sat on the desk and Matthew started kissing her passionately, almost violently. He circled her waist with her strong arms and Jane did the same but with her legs. They were kissing feverishly, and they forgot where they were, just started kissing, trying to get their bodies close when someone opened the door.

"Matthew- oh, sorry."

It was the new, young secretary.

Matthew ran to the door and straightened his shirt and his hair.

"Sorry, _Irene_. What is it?"

Jane frowned when she heard Matthew saying her name.

"These are the papers you've asked for," replied the secretary.

Matthew took the papers, thanked her and closed the door.

"Who's she?"

Matthew didn't notice Jane's tone. "Irene."

"And what happened to your old secretary?"

"Ms Potter? She's retired. Said she wanted to have some rest."

Jane moved off the desk so Matthew would go on filling in the charts and straightened her clothes. She sat across Matthew and looked how the doctor went on writing and reading. As if he had forgotten she was there.

"And why is she calling you by your name?"

"Matthew is my name."

Jane rolled her eyes. "I know. But Ms Potter always called you by your last name."

"Hmm."

"She's pretty."

"Hmm."

"Matthew!"

The doctor looked at her. "What?"

"I've booked us a table," Jane reminded him and pointed at her watch.

"I'm sorry, love. But I've got work..."

Jane faked a smile. She stood up and pressed a kiss to Matthew's forehead.

Matthew tried to embrace Jane, held her in his arms, but she moved away from him quickly. "I love you, Jane."

Jane didn't say it back. She only faked a smile and left.

There was something. Jane knew something wrong was going on... that woman reminded her of Irene Adler, the woman who tried to take Sherlock away from her. They were not the same because, as far as she knew, Jane was sure that Irene Adler had died. But yet the coincidence of the name, the clothes, the body language - trying to seduce a man - because that's what Matthew's secretary was trying to do. This Irene was trying to seduce Matthew.

* * *

 

Mycroft handed 'Irene' a glass of his best scotch and sat across her. "Have you started the job?"

Irene nodded and batted her eyelashes to his employer. "Yes, Mr Holmes."

"I understand you've met Jane."

"Yes. She was jealous, I could tell. She really likes him."

Mycroft twisted his mouth. "No need to point out the obvious."

"Doctor Morstan is almost _there_."

"I don't do 'almost', Irene."

Irene smiled and crossed her long, slender legs. "Why 'Irene'? I like my real name."

"I said no questions, _Venus_. It's on the contract you have signed."

"I thought you'd hired me to have some fun with that man. Not to play these games," snapped Venus.

Mycroft shifted on his chair and handed Venus a white envelope with a cheque inside. "That's what you do, isn't it?"

"Men pay me to make them feel special, to make their most wild fantasies come true, not to play the silly secretary."

"That's exactly the reason why I had hired you," Mycroft said softly, with a wide, almost scaring smile on his face. "To make Doctor Morstan feel special, to turn him into nothing but a man who follows his own carnal instincts."

Venus frowned. "I don't understand."

"You make Doctor Morstan fall for you, and my brother gets his wife back."


	17. Only Superstition

_"Matthew... why you betrayed me?"_

_"I swear on my children that I never cheated on you, Jane."_

* * *

Venus straightened her pencil skirt, checked on her red lips and took the tray with tea, sugar and biscuits (that she had baked herself) to Doctor Morstan's job was not bad after all and Mr Mycroft Holmes was a very good boss actually. He had provided her with all the things she needed to perform and accomplish the job: make up, jewellery, clothes, perfume and even underwear.

Venus was her 'artistic' name, as she always said. Her real name was something no one knew, well, Mycroft Holmes knew it, but then no one knew her real name, where she was from, about her family, about her dreams and about how much she hated pleasing men to get the money her family needed. After all, all Venus, or 'Irene' had were what many men considered 'a good body' and nothing else.

She didn't like this, but this time it was different. The man she was trying to please was not an old, creepy man but a sweet caring doctor. She was being paid to make a good man fall in love with her.

Easy-peasy.

"Here you are... Green tea with milk and two sugars, wasn't it?" Irene said softly while placing the cup on the doctor's desk.

Matthew only smiled at her thankfully. "Thank you, Irene."

"Hope you like them, Doctor."

The doctor looked at the biscuits. "You baked these?"

Irene nodded softly and shyly - faking a nervous smile. "Yes. Hope you enjoy them, Doctor."

"You can call me Matthew, it's okay."

"Hope you enjoy them, _Matthew_ ," Irene said with a wide smile on her face and left the office moving her hips seductively.

* * *

"Mummy, when is Matthew comin'?"

Jane brushed her eldest son's hair and helped him to put on his cardigan and then his jacket. "I don't know, Hamish. He's busy."

"You two angry?"

"No."

Hamish held his mummy's hand until she hailed a cab and both got inside. Matthew had always stopped on his way to work to pick them up so they would take Hamish to school and then he and Jane would have a little breakfast together, but more than a week ago Jane and Hamish had to take a cab to go to uni and school respectively.

"How come he doesn't call, mummy? He always calls." Hamish insisted.

"Matthew has lots of work to do and he needs to have some rest. That's why he doesn't come home," Jane explained. "I'll call him today, okay?"

"I miss him, mummy."

Jane smiled bitterly. "I know, Hamish. I miss him too."

* * *

It was half past five. Matthew filled in the last charts and smiled to himself. It was Friday, he had just finished his long shift and the only thing he wanted to do was to see Jane and the children. It had been more than a week since the doctor had last seen them and he still owed Jane that dinner to celebrate it had been a year since they'd met.

Matthew had planned a dinner at his house, the two of them alone with candles on the table, wine, slow music and maybe a passionate night together - only they alone, together. But he was covering a colleague's shift and he needed the money. The doctor was planning to surprise Jane... Matthew knew it was still, maybe, too early to give Jane what he wanted to give her... but it was worth a try.

"Matthew, shall I take the charts?"

The doctor nodded whilst putting on his coat and taking his bag and his car keys. "Yes, thank you," Matthew said and looked at his secretary. "Irene... Are you okay?"

Matthew noticed Irene looked pale and that her eyes were down.

"Yes... just... I'm a bit tired, that's all."

"You sure? Here, sit down," Matthew said as he pointed at the chair close to his desk. "I'll measure your blood pressure -"

Irene fell to the floor unconscious.

* * *

Jane paid the cabbie and straightened her dress. It was slightly cold, but she didn't care. She wanted to look pretty for Matthew. She was wearing heels, make up and a new coat. Matthew had called her earlier saying he was leaving early, so Jane decided to surprise him by going to pick him up so then they could go out to have dinner together or maybe they could go to his house.

She was heading to the hospital's entrance when she saw Matthew leaving the hospital. And next to him was Irene, his secretary, walking by his side, very close to him. Jane's eyes followed Matthew and his secretary. They walk together, side by side, and Jane noticed Matthew's eyes on her, on Irene, as if making himself sure she was not leaving his side.

Jane saw Matthew opening the door of his car for Irene so she could get inside.

Matthew got into the car and left.

Jane said nothing. She turned, hailed a cab and went back to Baker Street. Jane had asked Mrs Hudson to keep an eye on the children that nigh so once she was back, she lied to her landlady and said Matthew had to stay because of an emergency. Both Hamish and Locky were already peacefully sleeping in their room, so Jane drank a hot cup of tea, she put on her pyjamas and once she was in bed alone, she dialled Matthew's number.

Matthew never picked up his phone.

* * *

_"Hello, love. How are you?"_

"Fine," Jane replied sharply.

She was having breakfast with her children. It was a cold Saturday morning and Christmas was coming soon. Jane had planned to put up the tree with the children and Matthew, but she was a bit angry, sad, bitter. Seeing Matthew and his secretary leaving together when Matthew was supposed to be going out with her was painful. Jane knew that she didn't need to be clever to know what was happening. Suddenly the doctor was working two shifts, suddenly he didn't have time to see her or going out with her and the children.

Jane knew Matthew was a man. And men, usually, like pretty, beautiful women with long legs, small waists, slender bodies... and Men liked free women. Jane knew she was not and she would never be as pretty as Irene, Matthew's secretary, was. She was not tall, slender, she didn't have a mall waist and skin without any stretching marks.

And Jane knew she was not as free as Irene was. She had two children and she loved them. She would never change them to have a life with Matthew.

Maybe she was wrong when she thought Matthew was special.

_"It's my weekend off. I was wondering if you and the kids would want to come today, have lunch, go to the cinema -"_

Jane cut Matthew off. "I'm visiting dad today."

_"Oh. And what about tomorrow? We can go to the park."_

"I've got to study," Jane replied.

Jane felt Matthew hesitate. _"Um... okay. Jane, listen, I'm sorry about yesterday. I know I promised you a nice dinner."_

"I've to go. Bye."

Hamish smiled at his mummy. "Are we goin' to see Grandpa Greg?"

"G'pa Gegg!" Locky said happily.

"No, Hamish."

"But you said it, mummy."

Jane faked a smile. "Yeah, but Grandpa Greg is working today, poppet."

Jane didn't tell her children she had to lie to Matthew because she didn't want to see him. But Jane didn't have the courage to say it.

* * *

 

"Can we help, mummy?"

Jane nodded. "Of course. You'll help me to decorate the tree and the living room and then you and Locky will put the angel together, okay?"

On Sunday afternoon Jane and the boys put up the Christmas tree. It wasn't until they finished when Jane looked at it and remembered her first Christmas with Sherlock years ago. She had gone to the shops alone after Sherlock had refused to go with her. She begged, but Sherlock refused and Jane didn't insist much because she knew she would get yelled at. Sherlock yelled at her a few times and it took Jane a while to understand he had been always high when he abused her; when he yelled at her or grabbed her by her arm violently or with more strength than necessary.

Jane remembered herself decorating the tree and the living room alone, with her big belly, her sore feet and aching back while Sherlock made experiments or worked on his microscope in the kitchen. Sherlock cared little about Christmas - he had been so _high._

_"Sherlock, come here. I've finished decorating the room!"_

_Sherlock followed her and looked at the decorations. The only thing missing was the angel at the top of the tree._

_"Here," said Jane giving him the little angel. "Let's put it together, shall we?"_

_Both put the angel at the top and Jane hugged Sherlock tightly._

_"This is our first Christmas, Sherlock."_

Jane let out some tears when Hamish held her hand. "Why you cryin' mummy?"

"It's nothing. Now come here you two, let's put the angel, shall we?"

Jane helped Locky and Hamish to put the angel at the top of the tree. Once everything was fully decorated, she sat on her armchair with both of her children sitting on her lap. She hugged them tightly and the boys rested their heads on their mummy's chest. Hamish somehow understood his mummy was sad. Locky, as soon as he rested his dark curly head against Jane's chest, he let out a long sigh and kissed her cheek.

"I love you."

"I love you too, mummy."

Locky curled his little fingers around Jane's soft jumper. "Lov' mummy."

* * *

 

The following Monday Matthew pulled the car at 221 Baker Street. Jane had just closed the door when she saw Matthew getting off the car and Hamish running to him.

"Matthew!"

"Hello, Hamish! How are you, poppet?"

"Are you 'ere to take me to school?" Hamish asked.

The doctor nodded. "Yes. Now get into the car. It's cold."

"Ah, it's you," Jane said sarcastically. "We will take a cab."

Matthew bit his lip. "Jane, darling -"

"Don't 'darling' me, Matthew."

"I need to talk to you, Jane."

Jane assented. "I need to talk to you too."

"Get into the car and we'll talk."

Jane remained silent while Hamish told Matthew all about school, about the new Christmas tree he, Locky and Jane had decorated and about all the new things he had learned.

Once they left Hamish at school, Matthew wanted to take Jane out for breakfast, but she refused.

"Are you seeing Irene?"

Matthew frowned, surprised. "What?!"

"Are you seeing Irene?"

"Of course not! Where did you get that from?"

Jane rolled her eyes. "I saw the way you look at her! And I saw her getting into your car!"

"The way I look at her?"

"Yes!"

"For God's sake, Jane... she's my secretary! She's just nineteen years old -"

"Exactly!" hissed Jane angrily. "She's younger than me, prettier than me, and you like her!"

Matthew tried to take her hand but she rejected his touch. "I don't like her! I like _you_ , Jane. I love _you_! How can you think I'm cheating on you?"

"Oh, please!"

"Jane, I love you!"

Jane took her bag and tried to open the door of the car. "I'm done."

"Jane..." Matthew whispered softly as held Jane's hand and pressed a soft kiss to her neck. "You're all I want... all I need... I love _you_."

She couldn't resist to his touch, to his kisses, to his soft voice in her ear, to his hands on her body. Jane knew Matthew would never lie to her. Jane looked into her eyes and knew he was saying the truth. By looking at his eyes, Jane had always been able to see his soul. Matthew's eyes had always been so pure, so honest.

"Matthew, please... you're not lying to me, aren't you?"

He pressed a chaste, and soft kiss to her lips. "You know I'm not. I love _you_ , Jane."

"But..." Jane moved away a bit. "I saw her getting into your car!"

"I just offered her a lift. She'd fainted and she wasn't feeling well," Matthew explained. "Don't be angry, love."

Jane pressed more kisses to his neck. "I'm sorry."

"I am sorry. I neglected you and the boys. I'll make it up for you, I promise."

* * *

 

The doctor covered Jane's body with the soft sheet of his bed and held her tightly in his arms, against his chest. Jane snuggled against him, enjoying the warmth of his body. Matthew whispered sweet things to her ear and Jane pressed soft kisses to his neck.

"I love you."

Jane smiled. "I love you too."

"I missed you. I missed your lips, your hands," the doctor kissed her softly. "your body. Did you miss me?"

She nodded.

"I wish I could wake up next to you every single day of my life."

Jane said nothing.

And Matthew was dropping the hints.

"I wish you were the first thing I see in the morning," Matthew whispered. "I wish I could sleep next to you every night."

Jane said nothing.

"Are you okay, love?"

"Yeah."

"You sure?"

"Just tired," Jane said, reassuringly. "Can I stay tonight?"

Matthew smiled widely. "Of course."

"I usually spend Christmas day with Elizabeth and Richard but... would you like to join us?"

The doctor didn't know what to say. It was going to be their first Christmas together as a couple. Truth to be told, Matthew wanted to be with the kids, with Jane, spend such an important day with them, wake up next to Jane, open the presents with the boys and just be with them.

Matthew liked Elizabeth and Richard, he knew they were good people who only wanted the best for their grandchildren and for Jane as well. But Mycroft made Matthew hesitate. The doctor didn't want to see him. The politician had something against him and Matthew knew it was because he was dating the woman who had been his brother's wife. But Jane couldn't live in the past - she had to the right to rebuild her life.

However, Matthew was not going to let Mycroft hurt him any more.

"Of course, darling. I'd love to spend Christmas day with you and the kids."

* * *

 

It was the 23th of December. Matthew had the boys' presents inside his car and once he finished his shift he was going to Baker Street to place the presents under the tree. He couldn't wait to finish his shift, meet Jane, go out for tea or coffee or maybe go to his place.

Outside Matthew's office, Venus licked her lips. Mycroft had sent her a text - Jane was to arrive within seconds.

"Matthew," Irene got into his office and stood next to him behind his desk. "This is for you."

Irene handed him a rather small present wrapped with black paper and a red ribbon. Matthew smiled at her and thanked her.

"Why, thank you. I'm sorry I didn't get you anything -"

"Oh please," Irene leaned forward and pushed Matthew's chair until he was against the windows. With a quick movement, she straddled his hips and curled her fingers around his shirt. "You don't need to get me anything when I can have _you_."

Matthew tried to push her away. "Irene, what the - get off me!"

In seconds, Jane opened the door and Irene pressed her lips to Matthew's.

When the doctor had finally managed to get Irene off him, Jane had already left.

"What are you doing?!"

Irene smiled mischievously. "You want me, Matthew. You know you do."

"No, I don't! Get off me!"

"Why you want her when you can have me," Irene said, taking Matthew's hand and placing it on her breasts. "You can have me, _now_."

Matthew pushed her off him and ran outside his office. Jane was nowhere to be seen.

* * *

Jane managed to swallow her tears until she closed the door of her room and fell to the floor on her knees. She pressed her hands to her face and cried for long moments. Her tears fell heavily down her face and Jane couldn't help but cry and sniff loudly. She felt an intense pain in her chest, in her heart more exactly. Matthew had betrayed her. She was right, she had always been right. Matthew had been seeing Irene... he had been cheating on her with Irene!

Matthew was what she needed; he was always there to support her, to give her the strength she needed, to take care of her children and remind her of how good life was when you have two children like Hamish and Locky.

This had no explanation whatsoever.

Jane was convinced she had given Matthew everything. _Everything_.

So why was he hurting her like this? Why did he lie to her?

Jane had felt the betrayal before. She remembered being in a hospital, still pregnant, when she was given that envelope with a picture of Sherlock kissing a woman. Sherlock later told her he only did it to get drugs, but that he had never cheated on her.

It hurt.

Jane disconnected the landline and turned off her own mobile as soon as Matthew started calling her. And she even ignored his texts.

* * *

 

"... and uncle Mycroft said that Father Christmas will leave presents at his house too!"

Locky patted Jane's arm with his baby bottle. "Mummy mik!"

Hamish turned to his mummy and noticed a single tear rolling down her cheek. She was sitting on her armchair, holding an empty cup of tea and staring at the telly, not even paying attention to the news. He walked from his chair until he was next to her and hugged Jane circling his waist with his short arms.

"Mummy, are you sad?"

Jane wiped the tear off her face and faked a smile. "No."

"But you're crying."

"I'm just tired, that's all."

Locky curled his finger around Jane's pyjama trousers. "Mummy, mik!"

"Come here," Jane said, sitting Locky on her lap and helping him to drink his milk. "You're a very lazy baby, aren't you? You'll turn two years soon and it's time you drank your milk yourself."

The doorbell rang and before Jane could say anything, Hamish had already run downstairs to open the door.

It was Matthew.

"Darling -"

"Hamish, Locky, go to your room," said Jane, patting her children's backs and pointing at the stairs.

"But -"

Jane shook her head. "Matthew and I need to talk, okay? Just go and stay in your room for a moment, please."

Hamish took his brother's hand and both went to their room silently. Jane waited until she heard the door upstairs being closed and started cleaning the table. For a moment, Jane felt as if she couldn't face Matthew. But she wasn't even the unfaithful one there! Matthew should have been the one not being able to meet her eyes, but yet Jane felt like she couldn't look at those blue eyes anymore.

"Get out of my house."

"Jane, I know you're angry but I swear I wasn't... we were not -"

Jane slammed Locky's empty baby bottle to the sink. "I saw you kissing!"

"I wasn't kissing her! Jane -"

"Please, what are you going to tell me this time? That you two were practising some CPR?" Jane shouted. "How could you lie to me?"

Matthew tried to touch Jane, he tried to reach out for her hand but Jane walked some steps backwards until she was against the counter and Matthew was very close to her, just inches apart. "Jane, I wasn't kissing her. She sat over me and started kissing me!"

"Get out of my house!"

The doctor pressed Jane against the counter and kissed her. Jane tried to fight him back, but soon she felt those 'butterflies' in her stomach again. She kissed him back and Matthew deepened the kiss. He circled her waist with his long, strong arms whilst Jane threw her arms around his neck.

"Matthew... why you betrayed me?"

"I swear _on my children_ that I never cheated on you, Jane."

For a moment, Jane looked into Matthew's eyes and believed in him. She knew Matthew would never swear on his dead children and lie to her. And Jane realised Matthew wasn't lying.

"So, when you said you were working two shifts... you were actually working? You weren't seeing Irene, were you?"

Matthew patted his coat pocket and when he felt the small velvet box inside, he considered it for a moment. He was ready to ask her the question, but he wasn't sure if Jane was ready or if she was going to say 'yes'. The doctor wasn't sure if it was the moment to ask Jane the question. He had dreamt of a nice dinner, a romantic moment, a significant moment when the two of them were alone... Matthew wasn't sure if it was the moment to ask Jane if she wanted to be his wife.

"No, I was working. You can go and ask people at the hospital if you don't believe me."

Jane pressed a kiss to his lips. "I believe you."

"I'm sorry I've stood you up so many times. I've neglected you."

"What happened to Irene?"

"I talked to some people at the hospital. She's been fired."

Jane rested her head against Matthew's strong chest and let out a long sigh. She smiled against his chest and suddenly all her fears vanished. "Don't leave me."

"I won't. I love you," Matthew whispered. And two little heads were peering through the door.

The doctor turned and knelt on the floor so he could say hello to the children. "Hello, boys. I missed you."

Locky was the first one greeting Matthew and throwing his little arms around the doctor's neck. Jane stood behind, looking at the scene before her and she couldn't help but smile. Both of her children were hugging Matthew, telling him how much they had missed him.

And all the sadness disappeared.

* * *

 

Mycroft handed Venus the last cheque. It was Christmas the next day and another plan failed.

Mycroft Holmes' plans never failed. Mycroft considered himself as a brilliant man, capable of manage, handle every situation. He had enough power within his hands to make anyone he wanted to disappear off from the face of the earth. But his power had limits. If he had been able to make anyone disappear off the face of the earth, Sherlock wouldn't have to 'fake' his own death. His little brother would have been able to clear his name, see his son coming to the world, see him growing up, love his wife... and yet there was Mycroft, trying to keep Doctor Matthew Morstan away from Jane.

But for some reason he couldn't.

For some reason every time Mycroft wanted to keep Matthew away from Jane, it seemed that the 'love' they had grew even more.

Love?

Well, Mycroft was convinced Doctor Morstan loved Jane.

But Mycroft knew Jane didn't love Matthew.

_Or that's what he thought._

"It wasn't my fault, and you know it, Mr Holmes."

Mycroft showed no emotion whatsoever. "If either Doctor Morstan or Jane Watson ever know of your real identity or the fact you have worked for me, I'm deeply sorry to say I can make things difficult for you, Venus. For you and your family as well."

"I just hope you never get to break their hearts."

* * *

 

Matthew felt the need to pinch himself to check he wasn't dreaming. It was not the first time he was sharing a nice lunch with Richard and Elizabeth Holmes, but this time, it was different. This was Christmas lunch and this was the first time Jane was taking him to the Holmes'.

It was the first time he was being introduced as Jane's boyfriend.

"Thank you for coming, Doctor Morstan," Elizabeth said.

Richard shook hands with the doctor. "We've been looking forward to see you. Happy Christmas."

"Happy Christmas. Thanks for having me."

"Oh no, please. We want you to know that you'll be always welcome here."

The good doctor sat next to Jane and the four grown ups watched as Hamish and Locky opened their presents. They got lots of toys, clothes and Hamish got some special books for him so he could learn new words and numbers and about how to spell too. Locky got a few teddy bears (he loved stuffed animals), clothes too and a 'play doctor' kit. Elizabeth said that that way he could play with his brother and pretend he was a doctor like Matthew and like Jane, who was going to be a doctor soon.

Then, they had lunch all together and Matthew felt, for the first time, part of the family. He had always considered himself as someone 'new', a 'stranger'. But now he felt like a member of that family.

Mycroft didn't appear until it was tea time. Hamish was the one running to greet him, while Locky stood close to Jane. For some unknown reason, Locky didn't like Mycroft at all. He wasn't afraid of the politician, but he just didn't like to be held by him or to kiss his cheek like Hamish always did.

"Happy Christmas, Locky," Mycroft said as he handed the little boy a middle sized box.

Locky immediately tore the paper and found a dark grey coat.

Jane couldn't help but notice it was exactly like the coat Sherlock always wore.

"Look! It's like daddy's coat!"

Jane faked a smile. She helped Locky with the coat and then everyone commented how alike to his daddy he was.

Mycroft smiled. He curled his lips upwards and looked at his youngest nephew with delight. Little Sherlock was the carbon copy of Sherlock, and Mycroft knew his plans had failed. Every plan Mycroft could develop, formulate could fail. But Locky would not. Mycroft knew little Sherlock would always remind Jane of her husband, of Sherlock.

And Mycroft knew he didn't need to worry anymore.

Because Sherlock Holmes was coming back soon.


	18. She's Our Baby

 

* * *

_"Now that we're goin' to live with Matthew... we'll have to call him 'daddy'?"_

 

* * *

As time passed, Hamish turned six years old and some weeks later his little brother Sherlock turned two. Both had a little party each with the family, their grandparents, their only uncle Mycroft, Matthew, their mummy of course and for Hamish's birthday he invited some of his school friends over. For each birthday Jane baked a cake and with Mrs Hudson's help, she decorated it and the parties were lovely, full of nice moments for the children.

Hamish was able to read fluently though he struggled with some words. He could also write his name completely, his spelling was improving lots and no one at school laughed at him because of his hearing problem or his developmental delay. Hamish was a very happy boy at school, he had lots of good friends who helped him when he couldn't understand some things and that liked him as well. The only problem Hamish had was that he couldn't practice sports like his other classmates. In every PE class, Hamish had to sit down and watch his friends playing sports and he only got to watch them. His heart was still weak so he couldn't practise any sport. Matthew usually took him to the park every weekend so they could kick the ball softly and so Hamish would get some exercise to to be healthy.

Locky, on the other hand, was a very quiet child. He was very quiet indeed, and for a long time Jane and Matthew, were worried Locky might have been ill or that maybe he had a problem that hadn't been detected when he was born. But many doctors, and even Matthew, knew Locky was a very healthy boy, he just didn't want to talk just yet. He babbled and repeated a few words - but he was not as talkative as Hamish had been at his age. However, Jane knew Locky was a very clever boy. He knew most of the animals' names and some numbers too.

Things between Jane and Matthew changed too. Not only the kids had grown, but their relationship had grown as well. Every now and then Jane and the children would go and stay at Matthew's for a weekend. Matthew prepared a room for them, his son's old room, and he loved to have them at his house. He and the boys had a good relationship. Suddenly during the weekends Matthew's empty rooms and his backyard was filled with the boy's laughter, their voices.

Matthew decided to keep the ring he had bought. He knew there was going to be a moment... there was going to be a perfect moment for them, he knew it. He was determined to ask Jane to marry him, to ask her if he could spend the rest of his life with her, her children and who knew, maybe the children they could have together in the future.

"Move in with me."

Jane almost choke on her tea. "What?!"

"You and the boys, move in with me," Matthew said softly while they watched Hamish and Locky playing in the backyard of his house.

She was speechless.

Matthew held Jane's hand and entangled his fingers with hers. He squeezed her hand and smiled at her fondly. Matthew loved her. He loved her silences, her soft voice, her thin lips, her blue eyes, her slender hands always so soft, so warm. He loved her body, her skin, her scent, her sandy hair, her round nose and her laughter. The doctor loved the way Jane was with her children, the way she explained them things, the way she, sometimes, spoiled her children by letting Locky drink his milk using his baby bottle when he was already big enough to use and drink his milk using a mug.

The doctor was fascinated by the way Jane was. Matthew wanted Jane more than anything else in the world. Only seeing her every morning to take Hamish to school and then to take her to university, their lunches, their dinners together, Jane going to his place so they could be alone and make love - that wasn't enough anymore.

They had been together for more than a year, almost two, and Matthew wanted Jane and her children to move in with him.

"You will have everything. I can have those two rooms painted and get new furniture so they will have each their own room. I was thinking about getting Hamish a desk so he can have his own space to do his homework and study and -"

Jane cleared her throat. "Matthew, I... I don't know what to say."

"You don't need to answer now."

"Have you thought about this?" Jane asked softly, so the boys wouldn't listen.

Matthew nodded fully convinced. "Of course."

"I don't think it's a good idea."

"Why?"

Jane focused on her children who were happily playing with a ball in the backyard. "If we move in here with you... I don't expect you to support them - financially speaking of course, I've got money but... they are still very little, Matt. Hamish has nightmares every now and then, especially close to his father's death anniversary and Locky... well, you know Locky," Jane smiled. "I'd love to move in with you. But I don't know if they'll like living here and leaving Baker Street."

"Jane, if we go to the shops together I won't expect you to pay for their milk, or their favourite cookies or anything they will need. I earn enough money to support you and the boys, you know that. And I love them. I'm asking you to move in with me because I want to be there when Hamish wakes up crying because of that nightmares and I want to help him with his homework," Matthew said whilst pressing soft kisses to Jane's cheek. "And I want to be there when Locky refuses to eat his veggies," the doctor added and Jane smiled. "And I want to feel your body next to mine every night. I want you to be the first thing I see when I wake up and the last thing I see when I'm going to sleep."

Jane cupped his face with her hands and pressed a chaste, soft kiss to his lips and smiled. "Why are you so good to me?"

"Because I love you."

"Give me some time to think about it, okay?"

Matthew nodded. "All the time you need."

* * *

 

"Thank you Mrs Hudson, you're a saint," Jane said as her landlady placed a plate with sandwiches on the table.

Jane was revising to take her last exams before the summer holidays and she needed to focus. Mrs Hudson had cooked and taken care of the boys for a few days by now so Jane would be able to fully concentrate on her studies. If Jane passed her exams, she would be very close to finally get her degree and become a doctor. She will have to keep going to Bart's and do her residency, but at least she was going to have the chance to fix some patients and do what she had always wanted to do: help people, fix them, and help them to recover their health.

The old landlady smiled fondly. "It's nothing dear. Everything for you and the boys."

"Mrs Hudson, can I talk to you for a second?"

"Sure. Do you need me to look after the boys tomorrow?"

Jane shook her head. "No, no, well, yes - I mean... It's about Matthew."

"Oh. You two had a fight?"

"No. He asked me to move in with him," Jane explained. "I don't know what to do, Mrs Hudson."

The landlady sat across Jane. "Do you love him, Jane?"

"Yes."

"What is he like with the kids?"

Jane smiled. "He loves them. He wants the best for them and he... he's so good to them Mrs Hudson. You should see the way he's with Hamish. He's improved lots thanks to Matt. And Locky loves him so much."

"I've seen him, dear. And I can say I haven't seen Hamish as happy as he is right now since... you know."

Jane said nothing.

"I also think he's a good father figure for them," Mrs Hudson said carefully.

"I know."

"I'll miss you."

Jane couldn't help but cry in her landlady's arms. In the arms of the woman who had been like a mother to her since her own mother had turned her back to her when she was just a girl turning into a woman and pregnant of her first child.

"We'll visit. I promise, Mrs Hudson."

The old lady pressed a kiss to Jane's head. "Please, Jane. Don't leave this old woman without her grandchildren."

"I won't."

* * *

 

Talking to her children about moving in with Matthew and leaving Baker Street hadn't been that bad. Locky was only two years old and Jane wasn't sure if he understood, but Hamish, who was six, said he was a sad for leaving Nan Hudson. Jane promised him they would always visit Mrs Hudson and that she was not angry at them because they were leaving, and on the contrary, she was very happy.

"And we're going to have our room?"

"Yes. You'll have your own room and Locky too."

Hamish's eyes lit up. "And can we have a dog?"

"No."

"But you said dogs need gardens and Matt's house's got a big garden!"

Jane smiled. "I know. But it's Matthew's house. We can't just get a dog without asking him."

Hamish seemed to consider it for a moment and then moved further close to his mummy on the big sofa. "Now that we're goin' to live with Matthew... we'll have to call him 'daddy'?"

"Why you ask?" Jane asked curiously.

"Because Marty lives with his mummy's boyfriend and he has to call him 'daddy'."

"You don't have to call Matthew 'daddy' just because we're living with him."

"Will daddy get angry if I call Matt 'daddy'? Because Marty's daddy was angry."

Jane bit her lip. She was speechless. This was one of those moments she always hoped that will never happen.

"I don't think so," Jane said softly while she caressed Hamish's wavy fair hair. "You can call Matthew whatever you like, as long as you feel like it. If you feel like calling him 'daddy', then you can call him 'daddy'. Okay?"

"Okay."

Jane got to her feet and smiled at her children. "Let's start packing!"

* * *

 

Jane handed Matthew the last box. "This is the last one."

"Okay. I'll put this one in the truck and tell the guys to drive home. Shall we go?"

"Just... I need a second."

Matthew nodded. "Of course."

He pressed a soft kiss to her lips and left.

Jane waited until Matthew left and went to her old room, to the room she had shared with Sherlock before he committed suicide. She sat on the bed and ran a hand over Sherlock's side. She closed her eyes and remembered those lazy mornings with Sherlock, just lying there with him, kissing, talking about their future, about the babies they didn't have but wanted to. Jane remembered those nights in which they loved each other, those nights in which Sherlock wouldn't even turn to see her when he was high and she didn't know. And Jane also remembered those nights in which they loved each other and tried for a baby until they finally conceived Locky.

When Jane opened the wardrobe, she found if almost empty. She had taken her clothes and had placed them into bags. But the only things left inside that wardrobe were Sherlock's clothes. His shirts, his narrow trousers, his jackets, his socks, everything that once had belonged to him were now there. Jane took a deep breath and felt that scent. Sherlock's scent. His scent was still there, it was a mix of his favourite soap, coffee, cigarettes, his perfume. Even after more than two years, _almost three_ , Sherlock was still present in what had been _their_ room.

She decided to leave Sherlock's belongings there. Jane had talked to Mycroft and he said he was going to take care of those things left: Sherlock's books, his clothes, his petri dishes and his microscope.

Jane took a deep breath and looked at the living room for one last time before leaving. Baker Street had been her home since she had married Sherlock for the first time and she couldn't believe she was leaving. In that flat she had been happy, she had been sad, she had had the most loveliest moments of her life and the most darkest moments as well. Within the walls of 221 B Baker Street, Jane had felt Sherlock's lips on hers, on her body and she had also felt his own hands trying to cause her pain. Within the walls of that flat she raised two children alone.

It was time to let it go.

"Ready?" Matthew asked whilst Jane got into the car.

She only smiled at him fondly, sincerely and they finally left.

* * *

 

"You like your new room, Hamish?"

"Yes! Now I've got a big desk for myself! And I can do my homework there!"

Matthew smiled. "I'm glad you like it," then the doctor turned to Locky. "What about you, poppet? You like your new room?"

Locky first nodded. "...Yes."

Matthew had his children's old rooms painted and also got some new furniture too for Hamish and Locky but not much since Jane insisted they could still use their old beds. It only took Jane a few hours in the afternoon to unpack her children's clothes, help Hamish with his books and Locky with his toys and just right before dinner everyone had unpacked everything.

"Can we get a dog, Matthew? Please, please, pretty please?"

Jane looked at her eldest. "Hamish. We've talked about this, remember?"

"We'll think about it," Matthew said. "But you and your brother have to be good kids, okay?"

"Can we name it Gladstone?"

"'Gladstone'?"

Hamish nodded. "Yes, mummy. Gladstone. Like the dog in my books!"

"We'll see."

The dinner went fine. Both boys ate their food without complaining and later they brushed their teeth before going to bed. Hamish had no trouble falling asleep. The one having problems was Locky.

Both Jane and Matthew were sitting together next to Locky's bed and they had just finished reading him a story when Locky showed no signs of going to sleep any time soon.

"Want your baby bottle, Locky?"

"Yes mummy! Want milk!"

Jane went to the kitchen to prepare Locky his milk, leaving Matthew and the little boy alone.

"You know, when Oliver or Josephine couldn't sleep, I used to show them this," Matthew said, taking Locky in his arms and showing him a picture of an old cottage house that was hanging in one of the walls of the room. "this was my favourite place in the world when I was little like you. It was my dad's house. It had been his dad's, and then the dad's of his dad's and so on. Every summer my mummy and my daddy would take me there with them. I loved it..."

Jane stopped at the door and watched Matthew carrying Locky in his arms, talking very softly to him and she couldn't help but try to look and listen to them.

"... but then my daddy died and mummy had to sell the house because we didn't have any money left," Matthew whispered and watched Locky closing his eyes and yawning. "I've found that house, you know. And I'm going to buy it someday so I can take you and Hamish to that place like my daddy did when I was little."

Jane was about to get into the room when she heard Locky's soft voice.

"Daddy."

Jane caught her breath. She looked at Locky hugging Matthew tightly.

"I'm not your daddy, Locky. Remember I told you, baby?"

Locky yawned again and finally closed his eyes. Matthew placed him on his bed and covered his little body with a soft sheet when Jane placed a hand on his broad, strong back.

"Got him to sleep?" Jane asked, pretending she hadn't heard what Locky said.

Matthew just nodded. He kissed Jane softly and held her hand tightly.

"Let's go to bed. I want to make love to you," Matthew whispered to her ear.

Jane only followed him to what was going to be now their room.

* * *

 

The first weeks living with Matthew were good. The children liked the new house and especially the big garden. Every sunny afternoon Hamish liked to play games with his little brother under the warm sun, ran along the green space and basically enjoy the free air.

Matthew wouldn't stop telling Jane how happy he was for having her and the children living with him. He liked to prepare the breakfast for the boy's and take them to the park every time he could, when he was not working As Hamish was not going to school because it was the summer holiday, Matthew would take the boys to the movies, to the park, to the zoo and to different museums as well.

Hamish didn't have nightmares, but every time he was sad or just bored, Matthew was there to read him books, watch films with him and play some football in the garden.

Locky liked to be with Matthew all the time. Some mornings Locky would go to his mummy and Matthew's room and he would open the door, climb the bed and wake them up with a kiss. He barely threw a tantrum or sulked now. Locky was even more talkative now, and he was now speaking all the time!

Jane also enjoyed living there with Matthew and the kids. She had changed nothing of the house, even when Matthew insisted she could do or change whatever she wanted since it was her house as well. Jane only placed a few pictures around the house: she placed some framed pictures in the kids' rooms, in the living room and in her own room as well. Most of those pictures were Hamish and Locky's, one or two in the living room were of her and Matthew, some of them with the kids.

Sherlock's pictures were all placed in a box which only Jane knew the location of. She only left two out, and the two of them were hanging in the boys' rooms. Jane wasn't sure about putting them there, but Matthew insisted saying the boys needed to remember who their father was.

"Are you okay?"

Jane faked a smile. "I'm fine. It's just a headache."

They were on their bed. Matthew was reading a book and Jane was only staring at the ceiling. She felt dizzy, sick, tired. She was tired and Jane knew she had nothing to feel that tired. Her back was killing her as well.

"My breasts hurt."

"What?"

"My breasts hurt," Jane said softly.

Matthew placed his reading glasses and his book on his bedside table. "You must be close to your period."

"Hmm. My God, what's that smell?"

"What smell?"

"You can't smell it?"

Matthew shrugged. "No."

"This headache is killing me."

"It's been proved sex is good for headaches."

Jane cut Matthew off by pushing him off her softly. "I'm tired. Sorry."

"Are you sure you're okay? That's only a headache?"

"I feel dizzy and sick. My back hurts and I'm exhausted."

Matthew kissed her softly. "Want a massage?"

"No. I just need to sleep, I think."

Once the doctor turned the lights off, Jane tossed over to her side and closed her eyes. After a few minutes she felt Matthew's left hand across her stomach, his lips against the curve of her neck and his soft breathing on her skin.

His long, yet warm fingers started tracing imaginary patterns across her stomach when realisation hit Jane.

She had all the symptoms of a pregnancy.

No. No. No.

No.

It was impossible!

Jane knew it was impossible, they had always been careful and they had always taken precautions to avoid this, to avoid a possible pregnancy.

For days and days, Jane tried to avoid it. She felt dizzy at times but her back didn't hurt her anymore. She still felt sick now and then and Jane thought that it was maybe the food, or maybe she was just nervous.

And then she didn't have her period.

"Darling?"

Jane was lost in thought.

"Jane, are you okay?"

"What? Yeah, I'm fine."

Matthew was reading a book and Jane was sitting on the bed, brushing her hair and staring at the wall quietly. Matthew was worried, Jane was a very lively woman, she was sweet, good but lately she had been avoiding him, and she looked very pale too. Her silences were too long, too frequent now.

"No, something is bothering you. What is it?"

Jane rested her head on her pillow and closed her eyes. "Nothing."

"Love," Matthew started pressing soft kisses to her neck and to her collarbones. "I love you."

"I'm not in the mood."

"Jane, what's wrong? Don't tell me it's nothing because I know something's bothering you. You won't let me touch you and you've been very quiet these last weeks."

She closed her eyes for a second. She tossed to face Matthew and bit her lower lip in anticipation. "I think I'm pregnant."

For long seconds Matthew said no word. He showed no emotion whatsoever and Jane was afraid of his reaction. They never discussed babies since she had moved in with him. The only time they did so was more than a year ago when they spent a whole month at the country. It was still early in their relationship and Matthew said they had time. But now that they were a couple, a proper couple, that they lived together, went to the shops together, paid the bills together and did much of what a couple who lived together does, Jane was unsure of what Matthew could say.

Matthew kissed her softly. He held Jane tightly in his arms and let out some tears. He placed a hand on her flat stomach and he pressed soft kisses to the skin there. It was all so quick that Jane didn't have the time to explain Matthew it was only mere symptoms, that she wasn't sure _yet_ that she was indeed pregnant.

"We're going to have a baby."

Jane pushed him softly off her. "Matt, wait. I'm not... I don't know if I'm pregnant. I had most of the symptoms but we've always been careful - You shouldn't get too excited."

The doctor said nothing.

"I'll get a pregnancy test first thing in the morning."

* * *

Jane and Matthew were together in the bathroom. Both were staring at the pregnancy test to show them the results and to see whether Jane was pregnant or not.

"How long?"

Matthew checked on his watch. "Two more minutes."

Jane remained silent.

"If you... let's suppose you're pregnant, would you want this baby?"

"Of course I'd want it. But I need to finish uni first. I'm this close to get my degree and I'll start my residences soon."

The doctor kissed her softly and pressed a hand to her flat stomach. Jane looked into his eyes and she couldn't help but smile and imagine what her life could be like if she had a baby. If she had Matthew's baby. She had always wanted to have a big family, four or five children, live in a big house with them. But Jane remembered that was the life she had planned with Sherlock. They had planned to have at least two more children, make Baker Street bigger.

That was the life she had always wanted to have with Sherlock. But Sherlock was gone and now she had Matthew.

Both looked at the pregnancy test expectantly.

It was negative.

"No baby."

Jane said nothing. She was sad. She wanted a baby. But a part of her was relieved she wasn't pregnant.

* * *

 

Jane looked at her surroundings tiredly. She was lying on a bed and waiting for her blood test results. She had just started her residency at Bart's Hospital when she fainted at the sight of a man with a severe head injury. There was a pool of blood on the floor and Jane couldn't help but remember. That man's head had several bruises and he was dying. There was blood everywhere and Jane couldn't help but remember Sherlock had died like that. That she had seen him like that. She had seen him dying.

It was going to be three years soon. _Three_ _damn years_ and Jane couldn't get over it. She had found another man, she was trying to rebuild her life, she was raising her children alone, but with Matthew's help, but even after _almost three years_ , Jane still didn't know why Sherlock committed suicide, why he left her alone, why he decided to take his own life and her heart too.

Jane couldn't wait to get her blood test results. Matthew was at the hospital at the moment so he said he was going to see her as soon as he got a free moment. Apparently he was call on an emergency. Jane only closed her eyes and fell asleep, expecting that in her dreams, she wouldn't see Sherlock anymore when suddenly, close to his third death anniversary, Jane saw Sherlock everywhere. In the way Hamish or Locky sulked. God, even looking at Locky Jane couldn't help but remember Sherlock. After all, her youngest son was the carbon copy of his father.

It wasn't until a few moments later when Jane opened her eyes and Matthew was sitting next to her and holding a very little baby in his arms.

"Love, there's someone who wants to meet you."

Matthew handed Jane the little bundle. It was a very little baby Jane deduced was only a few days old. It was wrapped with a soft pink sheet and the baby was peacefully sleeping. Jane looked at the sleepy baby in her arms. It reminded of Locky when he was born. That smell of a newborn baby, the soft skin, the pink cheeks. She didn't have the chance to hold Hamish in his arms when he was born. She could when he was three months old and when he was healthy enough to leave hospital. But when Locky was born she could fed him and hold him in her arms.

"She's beautiful, isn't she?" Matthew said softly, sitting next to Jane on the hospital bed. "She was left in a bin at the back of the hospital."

"God. Is she okay?"

Matthew nodded. "She's a very strong baby. She survived the cold night."

"Poor thing. Have you called the police?"

"Yes. They are going to take her to some foster care."

Jane rested her head on Matthew's shoulder.

"We look like a couple who have just had a baby, don't you think?"

Jane smiled and nodded. She was on a hospital bed, holding a baby of only a few days old and who was very little and Matthew was sitting next to her, embracing her - embracing her and the baby.

That baby looked like the baby of her dreams. Like the baby girl she had always wanted.

"She looks like us," Matthew said after a long moment of silence. "She's got your eyes."

"And your hair," Jane added.

* * *

 

Sherlock started picking up the few clothes he owned and put them into a bag, not even taking the time to fold them. He shoot one last look at that filthy flat he had been staying at for a few months by now and looked for his fake I.D and his passport.

He had just finished.

Sherlock had just finished, defeated Moriarty's empire. He had done it. He had just killed, got rid of all those men who belonged to Moriarty's criminal web all over most of Europe: pimps, drug dealers, hit men, trained snipers, assassins... Jim Moriarty's empire was big and powerful.

But Sherlock had just finished with them.

And it was time to go back home. It was time to go back to his London, to his Jane, to his children.

Sherlock remembered Hamish. He knew he was now a six year old boy. Sherlock couldn't help but think his son was probably going to primary school by now. That he could already read, write his name, that Hamish was already going to school, that he had lots of friends and that he was probably happy.

However, Sherlock only remembered his youngest son as a baby. Sherlock had spent countless nights unable to sleep trying to think, imagine how baby Sherlock looked like. When he saw him at the hospital a few moments after he was born, Sherlock saw a few of his own features on his little baby. His hair was dark, his eyes were greyish and his lips were like his own. Sherlock didn't care much about whether her son looked more like him or like his mother, like Jane.

The only thing Sherlock wanted was his little son to have Jane's soul and heart.

Mycroft sent him some short text every now and them, but very sporadically. As far as Sherlock knew, Hamish and Locky were very healthy and Locky looked indeed a lot like him.

And now he was only a few weeks, days _hopefully_ , apart from them. Sherlock couldn't believe it. It took him almost _three years,_ but he was finally going back home where he belonged to, with Jane, Hamish and Locky.

The young detective was aware things were not going to be easy. Sherlock knew Jane, therefore, he knew he couldn't just appear again and pretend nothing had happened. He had made her seen him _dying_. He knew Jane was probably going to be mad at him. Sherlock also knew it was not going to be easy to tell his children why he was gone for so long, why he missed their birthdays, Christmases, Hamish going to primary school and Locky walking his first steps, saying his first words.

He knew it was going to be hard. But at least Sherlock knew he was going to be with them.

And Sherlock knew he was going to have a family to go back to.

_Right?_

* * *

 

Jane and Matthew were finally given her blood test results. Jane was fine. She was not pregnant, but she was a bit weak. She was prescribed vitamins and she was also told to take things easy and to take a break, stay at home and try to stay calm.

"She's so beautiful. What's going to happen to her?"

Matthew cleared his throat. "She's going to be taken to a foster care and stay there until someone of her family shows up or until someone wants to adopt her."

Jane said nothing for a moment, until the little baby in her arms opened her eyes, revealing herself to the couple. Her eyes were blue, deep blue. Her skin was slightly pale, slightly tanned, and her hair was auburn. She was still very little, but she looked as if she was indeed Jane and Matthew's daughter.

"We could... we could apply and get custody of her for a while. You know, until they find her family or until someone wants to adopt her..."

The doctor smiled at Jane whilst caressing the little baby's pink cheeks. "Do you like her?"

"Yes," Jane whispered softly, pressing a soft kiss to the baby's forehead. "We can take care of her. I'm sure Hamish and Locky will love her."

"Sophia."

Jane kissed Matthew softly. "She's _our_ Sophia."


	19. Coming Back from the Dead

_"...yes, you'll pick Hamish up from school right?...okay. Yes, I've to go now. I love you too, Matthew... yes... I have to go!" Jane said softly and giggled.  
_

_"Hello Jane," Sherlock said hoarsely, swallowing his own tears and fixing his eyes on hers and on the ring she was wearing that was not their wedding ring but an engagement ring Sherlock had never seen before._

 

 

* * *

Jane held the little baby girl in her arms and gestured her children to sit next to her. Hamish sat to her right side and Matthew took the empty bottle Jane had handed him and sat Locky on his lap, so that way the toddler would look at the baby. The doctor placed a hand on the small of Jane's back and when she turned to him, he smiled. Both children were trying to get as close to their mummy as they could, to get as close to her as possible to look at the very little baby wearing pink clothes who was peacefully sleeping in Jane's arms.

It had been a couple of quite hectic weeks, but after completing lots of paperwork, going to several offices, having several interviews and so on, Jane and Matthew were chosen to be the 'foster parents' of that baby girl that had been found in a bin at the back of Bart's hospital. The process had seemed to be endless, but finally Jane and Matthew were given a baby girl, to look after her until either her parents appeared or someone decided to adopt her.

Or even until they wanted to adopt her.

Jane had been told to take things easy, to complete her residences slowly, that there was no rush at all and to do them in her own time. Many doctors and even Matthew advised her to stay at home, at least for a while, and have some rest. That was one of the main reasons why Jane insisted they could take care of that baby they decided to name 'Sophia'.

It was a quite afternoon after long hours of completing tedious paperwork when Jane and Matthew were finally given Sophia. Jane decided not to tell the boys about her because they were still unsure whether he were going to be given the baby or not, but she had dropped some hints. She had asked Hamish and Locky if they wanted to have a bigger family and they said yes, but always insisting they wanted a dog. Locky was still very little, but Hamish said he wanted, along with the dog, another brother or sister to play with. The boy had many friends and most of them were part of large families with three to five brothers or sisters. As Hamish only had Locky, he was always insisting Jane and Matthew should give him and Locky a brother.

"Hamish, Locky, there's someone I want you to meet," Jane whispered softly to her children, trying not to wake the baby up. "She's Sophia."

Locky bent his dark curly head and stared at the little baby for long seconds before turning to his mummy. "Dat baby?"

"Yes, she's a baby."

"You and Matt had a baby?" Hamish asked.

Matthew ran his fingers thought the boy's fair hair. "No, she's not our daughter."

"How come she's here?"

"We're going to take care of her for a while... until they find her parents or until someone wants to adopt her," Jane explained.

Both boys seemed to be processing their mummy's words when Hamish's curiosity arose. "She doesn't have a family?"

Matthew shook his head. "We don't know. She's been found..." the doctor trailed off, unsure whether he should tell the boys, who were very little, that the baby girl in Jane's arms had been indeed abandoned, left alone to die. "She's been found in a bin. Apparently her parents abandoned her."

"In a bin? Why?"

Jane bit her lip. "Because... because sometimes people are very scared when they have babies and they... they just decide to give their baby to people who aren't scared. Sometimes, there are mummies that are very young and they can't support their babies, so they give them to other women who can't have their own babies but can support them."

"And also, there are mummies and daddies who don't want babies so they leave them in the streets," Matthew added.

The doctor was aware it was not the best thing to say. But it was the truth. Locky was still very little and he couldn't understand, but Hamish did. Both Jane and Matthew knew it was a very awful thing to tell Hamish, but the kid was growing up and there were things he needed to learn about the world in which he lived in.

"And her parents leaved her because they didn't want her?"

"It's 'left'," Jane corrected Hamish. "We don't know that, Hamish."

"So she's gonna be our sister?"

Matthew hesitated. He looked at Jane for an answer, but neither of them couldn't come up with an answer. They had decided to look after that baby girl while either any of her parents regretted leaving her and decided to show up or until someone wanted to adopt her. But they had also discussed the possibility of adopting _Sophia_ , as they decided to name her. Matthew said nothing more but they could wait until her parents appeared. However, the doctor inwardly wanted the baby's parents to never appear, so they could adopt the baby and start a family.

Because that was what Matthew wanted. He wanted to start a new family with Jane. Jane wasn't pregnant and even when they thought she could be, it was a false alarm. They had been careful, but both wanted to have a child. And God had given them Sophia now.

Jane hesitated for a moment. "Would you like her to be your sister?"

"Yes!" Hamish said excitedly. "But where will she sleep, mummy?"

"In mine and Matthew's room."

Hamish smiled, caressing, very softly, baby Sophia's pink cheeks. "What's her name?"

Matthew smiled. "Sophia."

"You can call her 'Sophie'," Jane said softly. "Locky, can you say 'Sophie'?"

Locky, who had been staring at the baby in his mother's arms seemed to be processing the word before repeating it. "Sophie."

That night, Matthew and Jane placed baby Sophie in her cot. It had been Hamish and Locky's old cot that had been taken early that day from Baker Street to Matthew's house so Sophie would have a place to sleep. Jane fed Sophie with some special milk and once the baby was sleeping in her arms, she placed her in the cot.

"She's beautiful like you," Matthew whispered softly, whilst hugging Jane from behind.

Jane kissed his cheek and turned to look at the peacefully sleeping baby before her. Sophia was one month old. She had slightly tanned skin, bright blue eyes and wavy, fair brownish hair. Many people told them Sophie looked a lot like them, like Jane and Matthew.

Many people were pleased with Jane and the doctor's idea of fostering a small baby. Especially Greg, Mrs Hudson and the Holmes'. Mrs Hudson and Elizabeth Holmes were already knitting clothes for Sophie, as the winter was coming soon. Greg and Richard were like two happy grandparents. They knew Jane and Matthew were only 'foster' parents and that one day, hopefully not too soon, Sophie was going to be adopted and she would have to leave their lives, but both Greg and Richard, as Mrs Hudson and Elizabeth liked Sophie as she had always been their real granddaughter.

As Matthew's parents were both dead and he didn't have any brothers or sisters, both Elizabeth and Richard had got close to him, and anyone who had never met the Holmes' would say they were Matthew's parents for the way they were with him. Both Elizabeth and Richard were quite fond of the doctor, who was not only making Jane happy, but their grandchildren as well.

The only one who, so far, hadn't say a word about the matter was Mycroft Holmes. Everyone had come to Matthew's house to meet baby Sophie but Mycroft. According to his parents, Mycroft was abroad 'taking care' of some private matters. Jane knew Mycroft didn't like Matthew and therefore their decision of becoming foster parents but little Jane cared about that.

Jane cared little because she had more important things to think of. And four of those many things were Locky, Hamish, Sophie and Matthew.

* * *

 

Time wore on, and a week later after Sophie's arrival to Jane and Matthew's house, everyone was already used to the new baby. The couple would wake up together, prepare breakfast for the boys, and later Matthew would drive Hamish to school and go to work and Jane would stay at home with Locky and Sophie. Jane placed Sophie on a small spare cot in the living room and sat Locky next to her while she cleaned the house, washed the clothes and made lunch. Locky used to sit there and stare at the little baby for long minutes. Locky was fascinated with the new baby. He often wondered why his mummy was so careful every time Sophie cried and Jane held her tightly in her arms. Locky liked to sit next to his mummy and watch how Jane fed Sophie with a bottle that looked a lot like his.

"Mummy!"

Jane's eyes were focused on Sophie, who was falling asleep in her arms after she had fed her when she felt Locky snuggling against her on the sofa. "What is it, Locky?"

"Want milk!"

Jane put Sophie on her cot and prepared Locky a bottle. She handed it to Locky, but the toddler only pouted. "I want milk like baby," Locky said very softly, pointing at Sophie's cot and sucking his thumb.

"You're a grown boy, Locky. And it's time you stopped using a bottle to drink your milk."

"No..." Locky whispered and little tears started to fall down his face. "Want milk like baby, pwease mummy. Pwease."

Jane had no choice but sit down, let Locky lay on her lap, rest his curly dark head on the crook of her arm whilst she started feeding him as if he was a little baby.

She couldn't help but think how special Locky was. Locky was special because he was a little boy who didn't want to grow up. Jane knew it. He liked to suck his thumb, drink his milk using his bottle, be in Jane, Matthew or any of his grandparents' arms all the time. He liked to stay in Jane and Matthew's arms particularly or most of the time. Locky was a very lovely, sweet boy, but he was also very lonely and quiet sometimes. Every time Hamish sat down to do his homework and there was no one to play with him, Locky would go and sit in the garden alone, and next to him would be his favourite teddy bear, the same one his daddy had got for Hamish before he was born. Locky was not as talkative, lively as other kids his age were, or as Hamish had been.

He was the carbon copy of his father, of Sherlock Holmes. Every time Jane looked into Locky's eyes, she remembered him. Jane remember Sherlock's face, his lips, his soft, full lips always so warm, so sweet every time their mouths collided into a kiss. Jane held Locky's hand and remembered Sherlock's long, warm hands that had always taken hers. Sherlock held her hand when they had been friends, when she told him she was pregnant and expecting Hamish, when she told her mother she was pregnant and said it was Sherlock's. Sherlock held her hand when they got married and were two mere teenagers, when she told him she loved him, when they moved to Baker Street. Sherlock had even held her hand the moment just before he had pushed her down the stairs when she discovered his addiction. And later, years later, Sherlock held her hand when she forgave him, when they conceived Locky, and moments before he committed suicide.

"You're not going to be a baby forever, _Sherlock_ ," Jane whispered softly once Locky had finished his milk. Locky said nothing. "One day you're going to be a man. A very handsome, strong and good man just like your daddy."

Locky remained silent, but a single tear fell down from the corner of his eye.

"Love mummy," Locky said as he hugged his mummy.

Sometimes Jane thought Locky was the one who suffered Sherlock's death the most.

"I love you too, _Sherlock_."

* * *

 

"Mummy... why mummies and daddies don't want their babies?"

Jane almost dropped her fork. "What?"

"Why mummies and daddies don't want their babies?" Hamish repeated.

"Why you ask?"

"Because you said Sophie's parents didn't want her," Hamish explained. "Why? She's not a bad baby."

Matthew placed a hand over Jane's thigh, reassuringly. "There are people who don't love their babies."

"But why?"

Jane focused on her eldest child, who was sitting together with Locky across her and Matthew. "Because not everyone love their children."

"So Sophie's parents didn't love her?"

Matthew nodded, still a bit unsure. "Maybe. We don't know exactly."

Jane and Matthew continued discussing every day things such as who was going to pay the gas bill, about the fence in the garden that needed to be repaired, about the news and so while the doctor helped Locky with his food when Hamish brought the subject up again.

"Mummy, you'll always love me, right?"

"Of course.," Jane said with a smile. "I'd always loved you, since you were very, but very very little inside my tummy."

Hamish bent her head. "And daddy loved me too, right?"

"Yes."

"And Locky?"

Jane nodded. "Your father loved Locky too. He loved you both equally because both are his sons."

Jane couldn't help but think how awful it was to lie to her child. She was lying because Hamish's real father had never wanted him. Sam Sawyer ran away and left her and Hamish alone. And when he returned to England he said it quite clearly: he would never want or love Hamish because to him, Hamish was not his son. And that was because of Hamish's condition. According to Sam Sawyer's words, none son of his was a 'retarded'. However, Jane was not completely lying to her son. His adoptive father, Sherlock Holmes, had always loved Hamish, since the moment he was very little inside her, even knowing he was not his biological child. Sherlock had taken care and loved Hamish as if he had been the once whose seed had conceived him. Sherlock told everyone Hamish was his child and Jane knew Sherlock would have given his own life for Hamish too.

"And you Matt? D'you love us?"

Matthew smiled fondly to the six-year-old boy and to the toddler sitting on the high chair. "Of course I love you."

"But you're not our daddy."

"That's true. But I don't need to be your daddy to love you."

Hamish looked at the doctor. "Then why you love us?"

"Because you're good kids. I like spending time with you, going to the park with you and Locky. You make me happy. You and your mummy make me very happy," the doctor said to the two boys.

Locky clapped his little hands together. "Daddy!"

Everyone was silent. Everyone's eyes were focused on little Sherlock who had just called Matthew 'daddy'.

"Mum, can Locky call Matt 'daddy'?"

Jane didn't know what to say.

"You can call me whatever you like. If you want to call me 'daddy', it'll be okay. But you must remember who your daddy is," Matthew said. "Okay?"

"But you're good like daddy was. It's just..." Hamish looked down at his food. "Daddy will never come back. It's not fair, mummy."

Jane opened her arms and Hamish walked to her and buried his face into her chest. "It's okay, Hamish."

They were very close to Sherlock's third death anniversary. Hamish's nightmares were frequent now. And sometimes Jane didn't know what to say any more. Hamish was angry, Jane knew that. He always asked why his daddy had to die and leave them alone. Jane asked herself the same.

Why Sherlock had to leave them alone.

Later that night, Jane and Matthew were alone in their room. Jane had just finished feeding Sophie and now she was putting the baby on the cot when Matthew came out the bathroom and stood next to her in front of the cot.

"I got a job. It's only a short shift," Jane said softly, almost childlike and pressed a quick kiss to Matthew's cheek. "It's just three hours in the morning."

"Who will look after Locky and Sophie?"

"I talked to Mrs Hudson. She said she can take care of them."

Matthew considered it for a moment. "You don't need to work, love. You know I can support you and the children. And the doctors told you to have some rest."

"I know. But I need this. I need to work."

"Promise me you'll be okay."

Jane smiled and felt Mathew's strong arms around her body. She felt so secure, so warm, so special in the doctor's arms, always. Matthew gave her the safety she needed. The love she needed.

"I promise you that I'll be okay. Tomorrow I'm cooking your favourite. We need to celebrate."

The doctor frowned. "What are we celebrating?"

"That it's a month since Sophie is living here with us."

"She's perfect. I wish she could stay with us forever," the doctor said while standing next to Sophie's cot in their room.

Jane pressed a soft kiss to Matthew's shoulder. "I want her to be part of our family, Matthew. I want to adopt her."

Matthew said nothing for long moments. He walked to his side of the bed, opened the drawer of his bedside table and took the velvet box from inside. He returned to Jane's side and looked at baby Sophie who was peacefully sleeping on the cot.

"Jane... I've wanted to ask you this since... I think since the moment I've met you," the doctor said as he held Jane's hand and looked into her blue eyes. "I thought I'd never find love again. But you've changed my life. You gave me hopes, love and three lovely children," Matthew turned to see Sophie and finally showed Jane that little velvet box. He opened it and Jane's eyes were as wide as saucers when she realised what Matthew was going to ask her. "Jane, would you marry me?"

Jane caught her breath.

She couldn't say a word. Jane remembered all those moments she had lived with Matthew: how he helped Hamish when he was recovering from a coma, the moments he had with her children, how good he was to them, the afternoons in which he helped Hamish with his homework, the nights in which he stayed until late because Locky couldn't sleep and she was too tired. Jane also remembered that night when they met. She was so lost, she felt so helpless. And suddenly Matthew appeared like an angel and wiped the tears off her face and promised he would help her and Hamish. If it hadn't been for him and his help, Hamish wouldn't have survived.

And Jane also remembered all those moments she had with Matthew. His kisses, his touches, his soft, warm hands always taking hers, always encouraging her to work hard and to make her dreams come true. If it hadn't been for Matthew, Jane wouldn't have studied as hard as she did and she wouldn't be the woman she was now.

Jane knew she loved him. Matthew was the best friend, the best man, the best boyfriend she could ask for. And after Sherlock, she thought she would never find love again. Jane thought she hadn't been born to feel love. And yet, there she was, nodding and kissing Matthew passionately and telling him softly in his ear how much she loved him.

"Yes."

"I love you," Matthew said between kisses. "I love you so much."

Jane only smiled and looked at the new ring in her finger. "I love you too."

* * *

 

Sherlock looked himself in the mirror. He shaved that long bear he had that had worked perfectly well to cover his face, his features and who he really was. Sherlock Holmes was dead to the entire world. Sherlock had to pretend he was dead and indeed he did it. He had travelled around most of Europe carrying a small bag with only a few things: a gun, bullets, his clothes, his fake I.D. and passport, very little money and his own memories.

The young detective, while fighting the remain of Moriarty's empire had nothing to remember his family. Not even a picture. He only had Hamish's drawings and his wedding ring.

That was all.

A drawing, his wedding ring and the memories of those moments he had with them, with Jane and Hamish and that he longed for almost three years were all Sherlock had. But now he was back to London. To his country, to his favourite city in the whole world and to where he knew his family was.

Sherlock had just arrived. He was staying at a small flat Mycroft owned in a very private, quite exclusive part of the city. Sherlock didn't need to look twice to know that was the place where Mycroft and his PA went to when they wanted to be alone, and not necessarily to work.

Sherlock was desperate to see his family again. He was dying to see Jane, Hamish and little Sherlock again. He craved Jane's lips. Sherlock needed to see her, kiss her, hear her soft voice, hold her warm hands, see her lovely smile. Sherlock Holmes needed to see his oldest son. Sherlock needed to talk to Hamish, see his wide smile, run his fingers through Hamish's wavy, fair hair and press a kiss to him. Sherlock needed to see Locky, as Mycroft had once told him that was his son's nickname. Sherlock needed to see Locky, see what he looked like now, what his voice was like, what his laughter was like. Sherlock practically needed to meet his youngest son. The young detective needed to see little Sherlock, meet him, and try to be as close to him as he could since he had missed him growing up. Sherlock had missed Locky's first word, he walking his first steps, his birthdays, Christmases... Sherlock knew he missed, just like Hamish's, Sherlock's first two years.

It was going to be difficult, Sherlock already knew that. But all the things he had done, such as making Jane seeing him dying, and all the things he had missed, such as his children's growing up had a purpose: keep them alive and safe. Sherlock suffered too, but not only because he couldn't see his family for almost three years, but because he had to kill, fight, run, cry and escape from kidnappers, killers, hit men, drug dealers.

Sherlock also fought his own battle: he dismantled drug rings and he had seen mountains of cocaine. Sherlock felt the craving an ex addict feels, and he craved the drug, the feeling of cocaine in his own system, but he knew he couldn't relapse. He had to keep Jane and his children safe. And Sherlock had a family to go back to.

Since his arrival, only a few days ago, Sherlock had seen Mycroft once. Something in Mycroft's face, in the very minimal details in his face told Sherlock something was wrong. Sherlock knew something had happened while he was gone. But Mycroft was the master of secrecy and lies. Mycroft was cleverer than Sherlock. And Sherlock hated to admit it, but his brother was cleverer than him. Mycroft was good at hiding facts.

"I need to see them."

Mycroft sat across his brother, who was already dressed and wearing his long coat and had tied his blue scarf to his neck.

The politician placed a brownish envelope on the little table between them. "You will want to take a look at what's inside this envelope before you venture into finding your family again."

Sherlock frowned but remained his position on the armchair, with his hands glued together under his chin. He could read nothing in Mycroft's face. Since he had arrived, Sherlock had only asked one question.

_Are they safe?_

As soon as Sherlock took the envelope on his hands, he realised what was inside. Pictures. Pictures of Jane, Hamish and little Sherlock? Why pictures? Sherlock wanted to drop the envelope and run to the streets, hail a cab, go back to Baker Street, see Jane and their children. Be with them again. Tell them how much he had missed them, how much he needed them. How much he loved them.

"I'm going to Baker Street."

Mycroft shook his head and produced from inside his pockets the keys of 221 B Baker Street and Sherlock immediately recognised them as Jane's keys. Why his brother had Jane's keys?

"Please, Sherlock, before you go, do look at the content of this envelo-"

"There are only pictures! I don't want to see pictures, I need to see my family!" Sherlock hissed angrily, taking the keys from Mycroft's hands sharply and walking to the door, ready to go back to Baker Street.

Mycroft knew he wouldn't be able to stop his brother. Not even all the King's horses would be able to stop Sherlock. Mycroft knew what Sherlock felt. He was so close and only streets apart when they had been more than thousands and thousands of miles apart.

They were so close and yet so far away.

"Jane and your children don't live in Baker Street any more."

Sherlock ignored Mycroft words and left the place. He started walking towards nowhere when his brilliant mind came up with the place he knew Jane could be.

* * *

Jane looked at her office. It was small and it only had a desk, two chairs, a stretcher and a sink. It was very modest and small, but she liked it.

She had been offered a small job at a surgery close to Baker Street and she was only going to work shifts of three hours on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays in the morning. It was not an extraordinary job, but at least it was good enough.

Jane, as some doctors do, decided to decorate her small office. She placed her computer on the desk, a framed picture of her with Matthew in which they were sitting together and holding little Sophia when she had just arrived at their home. And there was another frame with a picture of Hamish and Locky. She knew the frames would not change much the dullness of the place but at least she would have two pictures to look at to remember her family, and the loved one that were waiting for her at the end of her shift.

She had no patients in at least ten minutes, so Jane went to the kitchen to prepare herself a cup of tea before the first patient arrived.

* * *

"Can I help you?"

Sherlock looked at the young girl sitting behind that horrendous desk and deduced all the things he needed to know for his own plan. _First day working as a receptionist. Finished high school just weeks ago. Needed the money to help with the finances at home. Absent minded._

"Yes. I've scheduled an appointment with...uh, I forgot the doctor's name, sorry," Sherlock said, faking a sweet tone of voice. "Watson... Doctor Watson, is it?"

The girl looked at the computer screen. "Ah, yes. Doctor Jane Watson. That's her office," the girl said, pointing at the last office. "You can go in and wait for her there."

"Thank you."

Sherlock got in and sat in the chair across the desk. He was drumming his fingers on his knee, barely keeping himself calm when he knew Jane was so close, _so close_ and that they were finally meeting after three long years. Sherlock couldn't help but think of Jane's reaction, the kiss they were going to have. Sherlock couldn't help but imagine what Jane's reaction will be like when his gray eyes fell on the framed pictures on the desk. There were two framed pictures: the first was a picture of Hamish and Sherlock. The two boys were smiling. The two boys were sitting together in the large sofa of 221 B Baker Street. Hamish had an arm around Locky's little shoulders and their cheeks were glued together. They were wearing the same clothes but in different colours and that made them look like real brothers. Sherlock couldn't help but focus on his children. Hamish was so big, he had grown lots. And Sherlock too! Sherlock knew his youngest was bigger to be only a two year old boy.

But suddenly everything changed when Sherlock's eyes focused on the second picture. It was a picture of Jane and a man of dark hair and blueish eyes and they were holding a baby together. Sherlock couldn't help but notice the closeness between Jane and that man Sherlock didn't know who he was. But he had an arm behind Jane's waist and holding her tightly close to him. They were holding that baby together and their right arms were almost glued together and their fingers entangled.

That man was not a mere friend.

It had to be a dream.

Sherlock knew this was not real, but suddenly his eyes focused on the baby Jane, _his_ Jane and that man were holding. That little baby girl dressed in pink clothes was so little... just a newborn. She was so little and yet Sherlock could deduce she was only a few weeks old and that she looked a lot like Jane and like that man who was holding her hand.

It had to be a dream.

That man had to be a friend and not more than that. And that baby had to be anything but Jane and that man's daughter.

* * *

Jane was told her first patient had arrived early. The door was open, but she barely glanced at the man sitting in the chair across her desk. She only got in and, with her eyes focused on the papers she was carrying, she pressed the phone tight to her ear.

"Sorry, I'll see you in a moment..." Sherlock turned and watched Jane standing with her back to him and closing the door of the office.

She was speaking on the phone to someone.

"...yes, you'll pick Hamish up from school right?...okay. Yes, I've to go now. I love you too, Matthew... yes... I have to go!" Jane said softly and giggled. "I love you. Bye!"

Sherlock got to his feet and turned so they would face each other. Jane's words felt like knives stabbing his heart. He already knew who she was speaking to. To that man he had seen in that picture. Jane was talking to a man she loved and who was not him.

Hearing Jane saying 'I love you' to another man who was not him felt like a bullet going through his own heart and killing him. And hearing Jane saying 'our daughter' was all Sherlock needed to confirm his own suspicions: Jane had rebuilt her life, she belonged to another man and had her own family.

Jane put the phone back to her jeans pocket and turned.

"I'm sorry -"

"Hello Jane," Sherlock said hoarsely, swallowing his own tears and fixing his eyes on hers and on the ring she was wearing that was not their wedding ring but an engagement ring Sherlock had never seen before.

Jane felt her heart had stopped working. She felt dizzy and sick.

It was Sherlock Holmes.

Sherlock Holmes was there, standing in front of her.

Alive.

Sherlock Holmes was not dead.

Sherlock Holmes was alive.

Before Sherlock could say something, Jane dropped all her papers to the floor and walked two steps backwards until she was standing against the wall. "No... no... no you're... you're dead!"

Sherlock took a deep breath and, still holding that picture of Jane, their children and that man whose name apparently was 'Matthew', he blinked once and tears started rolling down his face. "I am _not_. I came back to you and our children."

When Jane realised Sherlock was holding her picture with her children and Matthew, she felt like dying. The man who was standing in front of her could have been Sherlock Holmes, her husband, the man she had loved with all her heart. But now it felt so different, so strange.

Because they were not the same and Jane didn't want, love him anymore.

Jane felt Sherlock's strong arms trying to catch her when she fell to the floor unconscious.


	20. Facing the Truth

_Sherlock swallowed his own tears. "I want us to be a family again," he said, but then his eyes focused on the little baby girl in Jane's arms. "But I see I'm late."_

_"We will never be a family again."_

* * *

Jane opened her eyes slowly, half afraid of what she could find. She smelt a mixture of familiar scents: Matthew's perfume, Sophia's scent and tea. From the distance, Jane could hear Matthew's soft voice whispering a lullaby to whom Jane deduced was Sophie.

Okay then. She realised she was nowhere else but in her own room.

Jane sighed softly, still with her eyes closed when she realised she was at home. Safe. And at home. Jane sat on the bed, resting her head against the headboard and focused on Matthew, who was standing next to the cot in their room and holding baby Sophie. He was whispering a lullaby so she would fall asleep while feeding her.

"Hey."

Matthew smiled. "Hey. Are you okay, love?" he asked whilst sitting next to her.

Jane only extended her arms to take Sophie and kissed her forehead once the baby was happily in her arms and pressing her little hands to her chest. "I don't have milk, Sophie."

Jane fed Sophie using a bottle. There was a long silence until the baby finished her bottle, fell asleep in Jane's arms and until Matthew placed her on her cot and returned to Jane's side. They were shoulder to shoulder until her left arm migrated to Matthew's stomach and she buried her face into his strong chest. She took deep breaths, taking the doctor's scent in and little tears started rolling down her face. Matthew only embraced her and pressed a soft kiss to her head and waited.

"He's alive."

"Who?"

Jane bit her lip. "Sherlock. I saw him today."

"Jane, Sherlock is dea-"

"I _saw_ him!" Jane said looking straight into Matthew's eyes. "I _saw_ him! He's _alive_!"

The doctor held her hands. "Love, Sherlock is dead."

"He went to the surgery today! I _saw_ him!"

"Jane, a doctor found you unconscious in your office. There was no one else but you."

Jane blinked once, twice, confused. "But... He was there. I swear I saw him... He was there."

"Do you want to talk about it?" Matthew asked softly.

"I was talking to you on the phone and... And he was there. He was holding our picture and he said that he was not dead and that he'd come back to me and his children."

Matthew said nothing.

"It felt so real..."

"But it wasn't," the doctor said firmly, taking Jane's hand and entangling their fingers. "He's dead."

Jane said nothing for a moment. She closed her eyes and rested her head against Matthew's chest and felt his heartbeats. "What if he's alive?"

"What?"

Jane got up from their bed and closed the door of their room so the boys wouldn't listed to their conversation. "He can be alive. He could have faked his own death."

"Jane -"

"Sherlock was so clever. You didn't know him Matthew, but he was brilliant," Jane stopped when realisation hit her. "Mycroft. I've got to talk to Mycroft and-"

"Why he did it, then?"

Jane frowned. "What?"

"If Sherlock faked his own death, why he did it?"

She was speechless.

"Was it because of 'Moriarty'? If he'd loved you, he wouldn't have faked his own death. And he wouldn't have left you and the boys alone," Matthew said softly, yet firmly.

Jane couldn't articulate a word. She didn't know it. She wasn't able to answer because she didn't know why, if Sherlock had fake his own death, why he did it. There were no proofs of James Moriarty's existence. To everyone, James Moriarty had never existed. Richard Brook was the one whose dead body had been found at Bart's rooftop. Apparently he had killed himself after Sherlock had lead him to do it, according to some police reports. The only one who believed there had always been a man named James Moriarty but never Richard Brook was Jane. Because _she_ _believed in Sherlock Holmes_.

"Yes."

"But you said yourself there was no Moriarty on the records."

"Because he had that key-code!" Jane hissed. "He used it to change his own identity and make Sherlock a fake!"

Matthew said nothing. He took his jacket and left.

* * *

 

That day, when Sherlock opened the door of what had been their home, 221 B Baker Street, he couldn't help but sunk into the emptiness of the place.

Their living room was just like he remembered, but everything was half emptied. The bookcase only had his own books. Jane's were nowhere to be seen. The table, which used to be always filled with Jane's notes, her books, Sherlock's own notes of cases and Hamish's drawings and pencils was not half empty. The only things left were Sherlock's old papers and nothing else.

The mantelpiece was empty. There was a dusty skull Sherlock remembered Jane used to love when they were teenagers and she went to his house. But that skull was now there, forgotten. The pictures that used to be there, those pictures of them and Hamish were gone. Every picture that had been hanging on the walls of the living room were gone and there was nothing but emptiness, dullness.

In the kitchen, Jane and Hamish's mugs were missing, as the baby bottle they had got for their baby. Hamish's drawings that had always been glued to to the fridge were gone.

Sherlock went to their room, afraid of what he could find. But as expected, their room was empty too. Their bed was nothing but a bed and a mattress now. Sherlock ran a hand over Jane's side and felt it so cold. He remembered their nights in that bed, always so passionate, always so full of love and the hopes of conceiving a baby. In that bed they had made love countless time and in that bed Jane had cried alone when he rejected her and abused her when he was high. That bed that held so many memories was nothing but the cemetery of their love.

The last place Sherlock looked at was the room upstairs, the room that had been his children's. Nothing. There was nothing but plain, dull walls, and silence. When he was heading back to London, Sherlock thought he was going to hear his children's laughter, their legs moving from one side to another around the flat, their voices asking him why he had to go and leave them alone... Sherlock expected to find two beds, toys spread all over the floor, sheets of paper and pencils all around the house. But in 221 B Baker there was nothing else than silence and emptiness.

If Sherlock ever thought he was going to have a family to go back to, he was so wrong.

Why Jane had to go? Why she had to take his children and leave? Sherlock felt like dying. He sunk into his own armchair and stared at the one across him. He remembered Jane sitting there, drinking tea, rubbing her belly, feeling their baby kicking inside her, joking how a good footballer he was going to be in the future. He also remembered Jane sitting there, with Hamish on her lap and explaining to him he was going to have a little brother.

She was engaged to another man now. And Jane had a daughter.

Sherlock couldn't help but think that baby girl should be his and Jane's. Not Jane and that... man's. The young detective couldn't help but feel his own blood boiling inside him whilst thinking Jane was someone else's now. He had sworn Jane would always be his and no one else's. She was his woman, his wife, his friend and the love of his life. Why she had to go?

Was it his own fault?

That's the moment when Sherlock realised he should have never done what he did. He should have been cleverer and try to find a way to keep his family safe in any other way but faking his own death.

Because Sherlock realised it was his own fault Jane had found a new love and had another baby.

* * *

 

Jane was just putting on her pyjamas when the doctor was back to their house. The kids had already had dinner and they were sleeping in their rooms, so was baby Sophie.

"Matthew, love, where were you?"

The doctor sat on their bed and covered his face with both of his hands. "Out. I needed to think."

"Are you angry?"

"No."

There was a long, awkward silence in which neither of them said a word. Jane finished brushing her hair and sat next to his boyfriend. She placed a hand on his back and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. However, Matthew said nothing. He remained silent, staring blankly at the wall.

"Love, what's wrong?"

Matthew turned to face her. "Jane, do you love me?"

"Yes."

"Would you marry me?"

She nodded. "Yes."

"What you said the other day... I want to adopt Sophie," he whispered softly. "I've talked to my solicitor. We can get married next week and fill in all the application forms and do the paperwork needed to adopt Sophie."

Jane bit her lip. It was too much information to process. The new ring on her finger felt almost heavy. Jane felt a sharp pain in the middle of her chest - guilt. Matthew loved her so much, so much that that he had accepted her children to be with her. Matthew loved Hamish and Locky, but Jane knew it had been hard for the doctor to get close to her children, especially after they had lost their father. But she was not ready to get married again. Jane wanted Sophie, she wanted her so badly, but she didn't want to get married.

Not when she knew Sherlock was alive. Because everyone could tell her it was an hallucination, a dream maybe, but Jane knew Sherlock had been at her office. Jane knew Sherlock was alive.

"But we... we can adopt her without getting married," Jane said, almost faking a smile. "One of us can adopt her. And she will be ours."

"You don't want to get married, do you?"

God.

Jane took his hand and entangled their fingers. "Matthew, I'm not ready. It's... it's not like getting a new car together. Marriage is... it's meant to be forever."

"So? I want to be with you for the rest of my life. I want to die next to you, Jane," Matthew said softly, as little tears started to fill his eyes. "I want you to have everything," He looked around the room. "I want to give you my name. I want us to become Sophie's parents and have our own children too."

Suddenly, Jane was no longer in her room with Matthew. Her mind was somewhere else, in a dream in which Jane imagined her life married to Matthew. They were already living a life as a couple, as a married couple: they slept together, shared a room, lived under the same roof, they were raising three children together and God, they were thinking about getting the boys a dog too!

Getting married implied lots of things. Getting married implied taking Matthew's name. Jane Morstan? Getting married to Matthew implied lots of more things too... her children would remain Holmes because they were Sherlock's children, but Sophie? Sophie Watson Morstan? Jane couldn't help but realise she would have three children of three different men! Jane didn't want that... she felt speechless. Three marriages... God, Jane even could think of her friends' jokes. 'Three-marriages-Watson'.

But it was not fair for Matthew. It was not fair for anyone.

"You've already given me everything, Matt. Getting married will be just signing papers... we don't need papers."

When Jane started pulling at his shirt, kissing his lips and claiming his mouth, Matthew didn't reject her. He let Jane touch his skin, kiss his lips and touch his body. The kisses because more erratic and passionate and soft whispers became moans of pleasure. But once Jane was peacefully sleeping next him, naked under the sheets of their bed, Matthew realised Jane didn't want to get married to him. She loved him, she was his friend, his lover, his everything. But for some unknown reason to him, Jane didn't want to be his wife.

Not now, and maybe not ever.

* * *

 

The following morning, Matthew was getting himself ready to leave, to take Hamish to school and go to work when Jane finished feeding Sophie and then Locky.

"Bye, mummy."

Jane kissed Hamish's forehead. "Bye, Mish. Be a good boy and learn lots, okay?"

Matthew patted Locky's dark curly head and then kissed Sophie's forehead and he also pressed a soft kiss to Jane's lips. "I love you."

"I love you too."

Jane waited an hour or so and started to get ready. She dressed Locky and Sophie and soon she was on the streets hailing a cab with her two youngest children.

"Where to?" the cabbie asked.

Jane hesitated for a moment. But something told her _he_ was there.

"221 B Baker Street."

* * *

Sherlock picked up his violin and started playing. He wasn't even rusty. The strings on his fingertips were sharp, and Sherlock felt as if he was cutting, hurting himself. He had missed his violin so much. The violin has been his only companion, friend, confessor until Jane arrived. When Jane appeared in his life, the strings of his violin, that Sherlock used to softly caress to produce the most sweet and sometimes bitter melodies and sounds were forgotten. Sherlock changed the strings of his violin for the soft, warm and sweet skin of Jane's body. His bow was left forgotten and Sherlock replaced it for his own hands. And Sherlock replaced the sounds, the melodies of his violin, product of his own fingertips for Jane's sweet voice.

But today Sherlock had woke up alone in his own bed and it had been a cold night. Jane, Hamish and that baby Sherlock needed to meet were no longer with him any more, and the flat, that he had once thought of it as being too small for his family, and for the children to come, was now too big for him.

Sherlock looked down at the streets and saw Jane getting out of a cab. Closely next to her was a small child of dark, curly hair and on a pushchair was a baby girl of no more of two months old.

And Sherlock's heart started pounding hard inside his chest.

* * *

Jane's heart started pounding hard inside her chest when she opened the front door and realised it was open. She knocked on Mrs Hudson's door, but she was not there. The lights were off and Jane knew the landlady had gone, probably to her sister's.

"Nan!"

"Nan Hudson is not at ho-"

Suddenly, a very sweet melody echoed the entrance. Jane was standing close to Mrs Hudson's door when she heard that melody produced by a violin. And she knew which song that was and who was the one who was playing it.

It was 'Us Against the World' and Sherlock Holmes was playing the violin.

Tears started rolling down her face and Jane pressed a hand to her mouth. She lost her own balance and almost fell to the floor. Jane's eyes focused on Locky, who was standing close to the pushchair and staring at him confused.

Jane took Sophie in her arms and asked Locky to follow her up the stairs. She wanted to run those seventeen steps and open the door and see him. Jane needed to see if what she thought had been a dream was indeed real.

If Sherlock Holmes was alive.

When Jane was standing just in front of the door, the song stopped.

"Come in."

It was Sherlock's voice.

Jane opened the door and stepped in. The first thing she saw was him: Sherlock Holmes was standing just close by the windows, holding his violin and looking at her with his grey piercing eyes.

* * *

Sherlock caught his breath and saw her. Finally, after _three long years_ , there she was. There was _his_ Jane. But she looked so different. Her sandy hair was long, lose. She was wearing make up and lipstick. She was wearing a pair of blue, skinny jeans, her favourite brownish shoes, a blue knitted jumper and carrying a pink baby bag.

Jane was holding a little baby girl. The baby was not sleeping, but snuggling into Jane's chest and patting at her chest, at her breasts. That baby girl had brownish, sandy hair, almost curly, and from where Sherlock was standing, he knew that baby's hair was soft. She had piercing blue eyes and pink cheeks. That baby looked a lot like Jane. Sherlock didn't want to deduce it, but he knew that baby was Jane's.

It hurt.

And next to her was his son. Locky, like most people called him, was standing next to Jane and practically hiding himself behind Jane's legs. Sherlock wanted to take him in his arms, tell him he was his daddy and that he had missed him dearly.

Locky indeed, as Mycroft once told him, looked a lot like him. He had dark, very dark wild curly hair. His skin was very pale and his eyes were grayish, almost blue. He had full lips and high cheekbones. Little Sherlock was taller and bigger to be a two year old boy.

It hurt.

_It hurt to be so close and yet so far away._

"You... you're alive," Jane whispered. "You are alive."

Sherlock remained his position close to the window. But he said nothing.

"Why?"

"I needed... I had to do it."

Jane bit her lip and tears started to roll down her face. "You _had_ to do it? You had to fake your own _death_?" she asked angrily. "You had to leave me and our children alone?"

"Jane, you've got to understand."

"What do I have to understand? That you-that you... that you faked your own death to what, to prove another of your _stupid_ theories? To make another of your experiments?" Jane looked down at Locky, who was trying to hide behind her legs. "How could you..."

She was about to take Locky's hand to leave when Sherlock reached out for her hand and stopped her.

"There were gun men on you and Hamish."

Jane gasped. "What?"

"If they didn't see me jump, they were going to kill you, Hamish and our baby."

* * *

Jane couldn't help but feel weak. She sat on the sofa and shifted baby Sophie so she would lie on her lap. Jane was still processing what Sherlock had just told her. If they didn't see him jump, they were going to kill her, Hamish and Locky.

God.

She felt her heart pounding hard and she didn't know if she was going to be strong enough to take this. And to take all the things that were still unsaid, unexplained. Because Jane knew there was more.

"You could have told me. You _should_ have told me."

Sherlock shook his head and sat on the sofa, next to her but not so close. "They would have killed you."

"Who are 'they'?"

"Moriarty's men."

Jane took a deep breath. "But why... why you had to go, Sherlock? It had been _three years_!"

"Moriarty was not a man. He was an empire," Sherlock explained, his eyes focused on the baby in Jane's arms. "They were several, Jane. And as long as they were still alive, you and the children would have never been safe."

"He was real."

Sherlock nodded.

"I... everyone thought I was crazy. It didn't matter...," Jane trailed off and wiped the tears off her face. "It didn't matter what I said, they thought I was crazy."

"I'm sorry," Sherlock whispered softly. "I'm sorry for leaving you and our children alone. But I had to. I had to keep you safe," The young detective placed a hand over Jane's and both looked into each other's eyes. "But I'm back -"

Locky cut Sherlock off. "Mummy... want home," the toddler said whilst pulling at Jane's arm, still hiding from Sherlock.

"Sherlock," Sherlock whispered softly. "Hamish. I need to see him too. I need to see my children."

She hesitated. Sherlock had all the right of the world to be with his children, with Hamish and Locky, but Jane wasn't sure about it. Locky was still very little to be told the man sitting next to her was his father who had come from the dead. She had always explained Locky his daddy was in Heaven and that he was an Angel. How was she meant to tell him his daddy was alive?

And Hamish? Jane knew her eldest son was angry. She had seen it herself just a few days ago. As Sherlock's third death anniversary was approaching, Hamish woke up every single night with tears in his eyes after having a nightmare. He asked his mummy, every single night, why his daddy had to go. Why Sherlock had to go and leave him. And Hamish missed him. He missed Sherlock lots.

"No."

Locky eyes' danced between his mummy and Sherlock. He said nothing, but even when he was merely a two year old, he could feel the tension. The scene before him was not the best. Jane had stood up and she was heading to the door. Little Sherlock was hiding himself behind his mummy's legs and Sherlock was trying, by all means, to get close to his son and to whom he considered was still his wife.

"He is my son."

"He doesn't know who you are," Jane said firmly, almost angrily.

Sherlock felt speechless. "And Hamish?"

"Hamish is angry. He hates you," Jane hissed, looking straight into Sherlock's eyes.

"You..." Sherlock trailed off and his gaze fell on the toddler hiding behind Jane's legs and on the fearful expression on his face. "You won't let me see my children?"

"You don't get it, do you? You made me watch you dying. I had to bury you," Jane covered her mouth with one hand and tears rolled down her face. "For God's sake, I had to tell Hamish you died because you were ill and that you were an Angel!"

"You think I _wanted_ to fake my own death and leave you and our children?" Sherlock almost shouted. "I had to do it! I did it because of you! I did it to protect you!"

Locky said nothing. But he looked in wonder at that strange man with dark curls and grey, piercing eyes and pale skin. Locky was also afraid of Sherlock. Afraid of the grey, almost white eyes and his dark clothes made him only look paler.

"Mummy want home," Locky said softly, but yet loudly so he would catch his mummy's attention and curled his little fingers around Jane's jeans. "Want daddy."

That's the moment when realisation hit Sherlock like a brick. His own son was referring to Jane's new partner as 'daddy'.

That broke Sherlock's heart, knowing his wife was with someone else, that Jane belonged to someone else now. Sherlock could see it on Jane by only looking at her. There was a recent love bite on her neck hidden, almost covered with the fabric of his shirt, but Sherlock saw it. He could even deduce she had been with that man the previous night. And that hurt, hearing Locky, his own son, calling that man 'daddy'.

_It hurt._

"What do you want, Sherlock?" Jane asked sharply, hoarsely. Almost angrily.

Sherlock swallowed his own tears. "I want us to be a family again," he said, but then his eyes focused on the little baby girl in Jane's arms. "But I see I'm late."

"We will never be a family again."


	21. There Goes the Fear

 

_"If you want to see the children, it will be in my terms."_

* * *

"Why, mummy?"

Jane hugged her eldest son tightly against her chest. "He's your daddy, Hamish."

"But he left! He left me alone! He's a liar!"

"He's not a liar, Hamish. I've already told you he didn't lie... he had to do it. And I know it hurts you," Jane said softly. "But he's your daddy and he needs to see you," Hamish said nothing. "And you need to see him too. You're his son."

Jane realised she couldn't do it. She knew she couldn't tell her children Sherlock had lied, that he faked his own death to keep them alive. Jane didn't know how to tell Hamish Sherlock was back, but somehow she managed.

Now she was in her room, curled up on bed, crying without knowing what to do. She had just told Hamish his daddy was not dead but alive and Hamish's reaction broke her heart. She told him there was a bag guy who wanted to hurt them, so Sherlock had to fake his own death to keep them safe, but Hamish only rejected her touch and moved further away from her and shouted she was a liar. Hamish was so angry. The six year old boy shouted Jane was a liar, that his daddy had been a liar and that he didn't love them any more.

It had been only one day since she'd seen Sherlock again after _three long years_ and she decided to let the detective see his children. That's why she talked to Hamish and tried to tell him, by all means, that his daddy was not dead. But she didn't expect the boy's reactions. Jane knew Hamish was angry, somehow hurt, but she thought Hamish would be happy to know his daddy was back. However, Hamish didn't want to see Sherlock.

When Jane told Matthew Sherlock was alive and all the things she knew, she cried for long minutes in his arms. He only kissed her tears and told her everything was going to be all right, that he was going to do everything within his power, and beyond, to help her and the children to go through this. Matthew never asked her if her feelings had changed now that Sherlock was back. When they met, Jane was still mourning, sad, heartbroken after her husband's death. But some time later she fell in love with him and now both were building a life, a family together. Without being asked, Jane had kissed Matthew and told him she loved him. Jane asked Matthew to help her and to love her because she needed him more than anything else in the world.

While Jane cried in their room, Matthew sat between the boys and hugged them tightly. Hamish cried for minutes. He went breathless for a moment and Matthew had to give him some medicines so Hamish would sleep and stay calm.

"Mish?"

Matthew was feeding Locky when the two year old spoke for the first time in hours after he and Hamish had been told their daddy was not dead but alive.

"He's a bit tired."

"Mummy?"

"Mummy needed to sleep. So do you, poppet," Matthew smiled and took Locky in his arms. "Time to go to bed!"

Locky rested his head on the doctor's shoulder. "Daddy, want story pwease."

Matthew put Locky to bed and sat next to him. He read him a story about a wooden puppet whose nose became longer every time he said a lie.

The doctor kissed Locky's forehead and covered him with a duvet. "Goodnight, Locky. I love you."

"Love daddy."

Matthew hesitated for a moment. "I'm not your daddy. I know you're very little to understand," he whispered. "But I'm not your daddy."

Locky started crying. He had never liked to get a no as an answer. Matthew knew they should have enforced more limits and that they shouldn't have spoiled Locky like they have been doing so far. It took them a while until Locky finally accepted sleeping in a bed and not in a cot any more. The same happened with the high chair and the pushchair. Now it was very hard for him and Jane to get Locky to stop using his baby bottle and use a proper cup. Just like Jane had once told him, Matthew knew Locky was a little boy who didn't want to grow up. And he was a very special boy too. Locky was a very quiet, sometimes lonely child and if it had been difficult to raise him so far, the doctor didn't know what was going to happen now that his real father was back.

"Don't call me 'daddy," Matthew said softly, whilst cuddling the two year old boy.

Locky let out some silent tears and snuggled against the doctor's chest.

"I know it's difficult for you to understand. But I'm not your daddy, Locky. I'm sorry. I wish I were. I would've never left you," Matthew put Locky to bed again. "I will never leave you."

It broke Matthew's heart to see Locky's sad eyes looking straight into his, as if asking why he wasn't allowed to call him 'daddy'. But it didn't matter how much it hurt the doctor, he knew the boys had a father and he was alive. It didn't matter how much he loved them or how much they loved him, they couldn't call him 'daddy'. And Matthew couldn't call them 'my children'.

* * *

 

Mycroft was the one who told his parents Sherlock, their son, was indeed alive and not dead. Mycroft decided to do it himself instead of letting Sherlock walk into their house without a previous warning. The politician knew their parents were more likely to die of a heart attack at the sight of their youngest son, whom they believed had been dead for the past three years, coming back to them.

Elizabeth cried and cried. Richard said nothing.

Both of them were angry. And then the five stages of Kübler-Ross model happened during one hour and several cups of tea. They denied, rejected the idea Sherlock was alive. They said it was impossible and that Mycroft had probably fallen off the bed and hit his head to say such thing. Then, the typical anger. Mycroft was asked several questions and he also got told off too. Elizabeth was the angriest of the two of them. She had always been the closest to Sherlock of the whole family and losing him had been hard.

The bargaining and the depression happened one within the other.

The acceptance came almost immediately. They wanted to see Sherlock, check if he was okay, tell him how much they had missed him and Mycroft couldn't even escape from the question.

"Has Sherlock seen the kids?" Elizabeth asked optimistically. "Has he seen Locky?"

"Jane doesn't want him near the children."

* * *

Something similar happened at 221 Baker Street once Mrs Hudson was back from her sister's.

Mrs Hudson passed out as soon as Sherlock stepped into her small living room. When she woke up, she asked Sherlock if she had died and he was greeting her and showing her what Heaven was like.

"If I had died, I would have never go to such place called 'Heaven'."

The old landlady patted his shoulder and placed a plate with warm food for him. "You're so thin! I'm going to fatten you up this winter, young man!"

The young detective told him some of his adventures around the world and all the things he had seen. He avoided most of the gory, violent scenes and days he had to endure, as the time he had been kidnapped and almost killed. But Sherlock asked most of the questions he had, about Jane, about his children, how they were when he left. How Jane managed.

"Hamish suffered, dear. He wouldn't eat, or drink his milk. He lost weight and he was very weak," Mrs Hudson said with sad eyes, remembering seeing Jane exhausted and still sad after Sherlock's death trying to get his son to eat while she was just a few days close to have her second baby. "He wouldn't sleep at night and Jane..." the landlady trailed off. "The poor thing was devastated and she felt helpless."

"She doesn't want me near them, Mrs Hudson. I need to see Hamish. And I need to tell Sherlock I'm his father."

The landlady let out a long sigh. "They need time, dear. Hamish had lived these three past years thinking his daddy had died because he was ill and because God needed a consulting detective in Heaven. His mind is... you need to take things slowly with Hamish."

* * *

 

Jane stared at the coffee on the table, unable for a moment to meet those grey, icy eyes on her. The coffee was just like she remembered. Speedy's hadn't changed at all. The distinctive smell of the place, of fresh baked bread, cookies, coffee and tea made the place warm, enjoyable.

But Jane couldn't enjoy being there when in front of her was Sherlock Holmes.

"Where are they?"

"At home," Jane cleared her sore throat.

"I knew you wouldn't bring them," Sherlock said, staring at her blankly, not giving any emotion away. "At least I know you've told them."

She blinked twice and sighed inwardly. "Yes, I have," Jane lanced at her phone and then at Sherlock. "Do you really think this is the best place for two little children to meet their father?"

Sherlock said nothing.

"I was thinking you can come tomorrow -"

"Too predictable," Sherlock cut Jane off. "And I'm not meeting your _boyfriend_."

Jane was about to shout when she remembered where she was. She felt her own blood boiling inside her. These past days she had to go through an emotional roller coaster and not only her but her children as well. Her whole family was going through an emotional roller coaster in which everything they had lived so far - their entire life turned upside down. Hamish wouldn't eat unless she or Matthew sat with him and practically forced him to eat. Hamish had nightmares and he started to wet the bed again.

Locky was still very little to understand, but they had to try very hard to make him call Matthew 'Matt' and not 'daddy' as he had been doing for almost most of his life. Jane sat with Locky and showed him all the pictures she had of Sherlock: pictures of them when they were teenagers, when they got married, pictures of those short years they had shared together and she told him he was his daddy. His and Hamish's. That he had to go away for a long time but now he was back. Jane had to tell Locky, in a suitable way for a two year old, that his daddy was that man they had seen the other day and not Matthew. That Matthew was her boyfriend and that his daddy was Sherlock.

Jane clenched her teeth. "I'm not bringing the kids here when Hamish doesn't want to see you."

And Sherlock now understood, conceived of, that the Jane sitting across him was not the Jane that he had within his memories. This Jane was new, she was talking almost offensively, angrily.

"And what have you told him?"

"I told him the truth. That you had to fake your own death because someone wanted to kill us," Jane said firmly. "I told him you never wanted to leave him. If you don't believe me, go and ask him yourself," Jane glanced again at her phone. "I would never lie to him."

They had reached a point in which neither of them was being civilized and polite. They had reached a point in which both were fighting to see who was the best parent. Sherlock was fighting to see his children. Jane was fighting to preserve, keep her children safe.

"So you want me to go to the house where you live with _him_ to see my own children?" Sherlock asked sarcastically.

"I didn't come here to talk about my personal life. I came here to talk about Hamish and Locky," Jane said firmly. "Hamish had a mild fit when I told him you were alive," Jane paused and looked straight into Sherlock's icy eyes. "He is very fragile. Have you forgotten that?"

Sherlock's face changed. "Of course I haven't."

"If you want to see them, it will be in my terms."

* * *

 

The following day Sherlock was standing in front of a very nice house and trying to deduce whether he was going to see Jane's new partner. The house in front of him was big, important, and it looked a lot like the kind of house Jane had always dreamt of. It was placed in a nice part of London, not so far away from the city and in a very calm neighbourhood.

Sherlock noticed there were no car outside, so certain Doctor Morstan was not at home.

Sherlock had got some information from Mycroft. Jane's boyfriend, fiancée actually, was a Doctor, a paediatrician who worked at Bart's. He was several years older than Jane, was a widower and he had lost his family in a car crash years ago. He had had a four year old son named Oliver and a two year old girl named Josephine. The detective knew Jane and Matthew met the very same day Hamish woke up from the comma and since then he had been his and Locky's doctor.

Doctor Morstan was a man who liked the quiet life: afternoons with a hot cup of tea and scones, go to the movies, to the park, go to the gym, take Jane and his children to have dinner out every now and then. He had money and he was a very important Doctor actually. At least Sherlock knew his children had had everything. But yet it made him angry the fact his children had been raised by that man.

Sherlock rang the bell and waited. He was dying to see his children again, tell him how much he had missed them and somehow, try to bond and heal their relationship. A couple of seconds later Jane opened the door. If the expression on her face was everything to go by, Sherlock knew she was not pleased to have him there, in her house.

Jane opened the door and moved so he could get in.

"Come in."

The detective felt his heart pounding inside his chest. As soon as he was in, Sherlock's eyes focused on the living room. It wasn't that big, but it looked spacious because of the white walls and the minimal décor. The furniture was cheap, but Sherlock noticed it had been fixed and painted so it would look expensive. Immediately the detective knew the decoration was not the product of Jane's work but her partner's dead wife. There was a coffee table in the middle and two large sofas and two armchairs. There were two wide bookcases filled with medical books, a fireplace and a mantelpiece where lots of framed pictures had been placed over and a telly.

Sherlock couldn't help but focus on the pictures placed everywhere, on the walls, on the coffee table, on the mantelpiece. There were pictures of Jane and the boys, pictures of the boys in the park, pictures of Hamish with his school uniform, pictures of Locky standing on a chair and in front of him was a cake with a single candle; his first birthday. There were pictures of the boys together and that man, Jane's boyfriend. Sherlock felt his own blood boil inside him when he stared at the pictures of Jane, that man and his children. That man was was holding them tightly and he had an arm around Jane's waist. In all those pictures they looked very happy, almost like a family.

Over the coffee table were a tray with two cups of tea, a plastic mug with a superhero printed on it, two baby bottles and a plate with sponge cake.

"Tea?"

Sherlock sat in the middle of one of the sofas, across Jane and nodded. "Please."

Jane poured tea into two cups and handed Sherlock one. Their fingers brushed slightly and Sherlock couldn't help but notice how warm Jane's hands were. He tried to look at her, so their eyes could meet, but Jane looked away. There was a deep pink shadow on her cheeks when she cleared her throat and walked to the small coat placed close to her.

Sherlock realised he had dismissed, ignored the small, modest cot and the little baby girl sleeping inside.

Jane took the baby in her arms and returned to her place, across Sherlock and took the baby bottle and started feeding her baby. "They're napping. They'll wake up soon."

There was a long silence in which neither of them said a word. Sherlock observed Jane feeding that baby he wished could be his. _Theirs._ Sherlock noticed how much love was in Jane, how much she cared for that baby.

"When she was born?"

Jane shrugged. "We don't know the exact date. She's two months old."

"She's not yours - of course," Sherlock sipped his tea. "What's her name?"

"Sophia."

Sherlock remembered that was the name Jane had always liked for a baby girl. Sherlock remembered them being two mere teenagers when Jane told him if she was ever going to have a baby girl, she wanted to name her Sophia. When they were expecting Locky, and Jane was only a few weeks pregnant, they dreamed of having a little girl. Sherlock had always wanted to have a little girl and spoil her. He wanted to have a baby girl who would look a lot like Jane.

Once the baby had finished her bottle, Jane placed her across her chest and patted her little back softly. "The boys love her," Jane said and moved the baby again so she would lie on the crook of her arm. "Do you..." she hesitated, after seeing Sherlock's eyes on Sophie. "Do you want to hold her?"

He only nodded.

Jane left her seat and sat next to Sherlock but not so close, yet not so far away. Sherlock took off his coat and loosened his blue scarf. Once he was done, Jane leaned forward and placed baby Sophie on Sherlock's arms.

"Be careful," Jane whispered.

Sherlock, when Jane leaned down, took a deep breath and inhaled Jane's scent. He could smell her soft perfume, soap, tea and the milk she had used to fed the baby girl.

Once the baby was in his arms, Sherlock curled his lips upwards, just slightly, and caressed the baby's soft cheeks with his thumb. He couldn't help but think how alike Jane, that man who was her boyfriend and Sophia were. She just looked as if she was indeed their daughter.

It hurt.

"She's beautiful," Sherlock whispered and turned to face Jane who was sitting next to him. "She's beautiful like you."

They faces were so close, so close, just inches apart and yet so far away from each other. Jane's eyes focused on Sherlock's, on his lips, on those lips she had missed so much, on those lips she had craved for so long.

"Sherlock -"

"Mummy..." Locky said stepping into the living room and rubbing his eyes. "want milk," he said sleepily and stopped his steps as soon as he met Sherlock's figure sitting next to his mummy and holding his little sister.

Locky immediately ran to the sofa across Jane and Sherlock and hid behind it. Jane took the baby off Sherlock's arms and placed Sophie on the cot. Then, she went to Locky and Sherlock could hear their soft whispers.

"Come here, Locky."

Sherlock couldn't see his son, but he was sure he was shaking his head, not wanting to be with him. It hurt Sherlock. It hurt him to know his little son was afraid of him. It hurt Sherlock to see his son feared him.

"No mummy, pwease."

Jane pressed a soft kiss to Locky's forehead. "It's okay. I'm here. Just come here and drink your milk. I've baked a cake," she said softly. "Come here with me and your daddy."

Locky wanted his milk. And Jane had just told him she had baked a cake. Locky couldn't resist to the promise of milk and cake, but he feared that man with dark hair, sharp eyes, pale skin and the icy looks of his eyes.

Sherlock watched Locky emerging from behind the sofa and sitting next to Jane and across him. He buried his face into Jane's chest and started pulling at her shirt. "Mppphhh!"

"No," Jane said softly, eyes focused on her son. "We've talked about this, remember?" Jane handed him his bottle. "Here."

Locky shook his head. "No. You milk, mummy."

Sherlock looked at the scene before him with sad eyes. That's the moment when he realised how much he had missed. How much of Locky he had missed. His youngest son was a two year old now. He could talk, not much, but at least he could articulate a few words and make himself clear. Sherlock saw the way Locky's grey eyes, like his own, gave the boy the appearance of a sad, lonely boy.

"You're a big boy. I can't feed you -"

"Pwease," Locky whispered softly and little tears started to fall down his eyes. "pwease mummy."

Jane let Locky lay on her lap and started feeding him his bottle just like she had done with Sophie and as if Locky was a very little baby. "I can't get him to stop using his bottle," Jane said, eyes focused on her son.

Once Locky had drank all his milk, Jane caressed his curls and the toddler sat next to his mummy. His grey eyes focused on the tall man sitting across him. Sherlock smiled at him, but Locky just tried to hide himself behind Jane.

"Locky, he's your daddy."

Locky said nothing.

"Hello," Sherlock said softly. "Hello, Sherlock."

Locky said nothing.

Jane bit her lip. "Remember the pictures I've shown you, Locky?" she asked. "He's your daddy. Your and Hamish's daddy. He's daddy Sherlock."

Locky remained silent.

"Remember the stories Hamish told you? He's daddy Sherlock," Jane said softly. "He's uncle Mycroft's brother and Nan Lizzie and Grandpa Richard's son."

Locky looked up to his mummy, but he said nothing. However, Jane couldn't help but let some tears fall down her face when she looked into her son's eyes. There was a mixture of fear, sadness and confusion. And Jane didn't know what to do. She wanted Locky yo meet his daddy and she wanted them to bond. She knew they were not going to have a close relationship, now, like any father and child have. But at least she want them to try. But seeing Locky and his eyes, almost begging her to take him away from Sherlock, because Locky for some reason feared him, it broke Jane's heart.

And Sherlock's.

Without saying a word, Sherlock moved further and sat next to Locky. Being very careful, a long, warm hand migrated to Locky's cheek. The detective caressed his son's cheek and then his dark, wild curls and smiled at him. Sherlock smiled at him as much as he could, trying to swallow his own tears. "Hello, Sherlock."

Locky said nothing. He snuggled close to Jane, but his eyes were still focused on Sherlock.

"My name is Sherlock," the detective said. "I'm your daddy."

The little boy turned to Jane and started pulling at her shirt. "Scar'd mummy!"

"Sherlock, I think you should go -"

"Mycroft told me you like this," Sherlock said, cutting Jane off and produced five bouncing colourful balls from inside his pocket. "These are for you."

Locky looked at the balls and his eyes lit up. He took one with his little hand and threw it on the floor. He noticed the ball bounced and it rolled down the coffee table. "Ball!"

"Yes! Look at this," Sherlock said and made the famous magic trick of hiding the ball in one hand and producing it on the other. "See? Here's the ball!"

Locky smiled and clapped his hands together. He moved close to Sherlock and both started playing with the little balls.

Sherlock saw how the fear was fading away and how happy Locky was now. The little boy was smiling and laughing. He clapped his hands together every time his daddy did another magic trick and he even let Sherlock sat closer. The detective ran his fingers through Locky's wild dark curls and closed her eyes. There was a moment in which Locky was so lost in the game that he moved closer and closer until he was sitting on Sherlock's lap.

"Do you like your gift?"

Locky nodded. "Twank you."

"You're welcome," Sherlock pressed a kiss to his son's cheek and Locky kissed him back.

Jane looked away and started picking up the empty cups and the empty bottles. She went to the kitchen and once she had placed the cups and bottle in the sink, she pressed her hands to her eyes and wiped the tears off her face. She was so happy his little son was finally bonding with his daddy, that Locky had lost that fear he felt for Sherlock and that now they were playing, just like the little boy did with Matthew.

She returned to the living room and sat across her ex husband and her son. She was so focused on Sherlock and Locky playing together that she didn't see her eldest son had just stepped in the room.

There was a loud cry.

Everyone in the room turned to find Hamish was standing on the doorway. His face was wet with tears and there was a fearful, sad look on his eyes.


	22. Daddy Sherlock

_"I missed you, daddy," Hamish said softly._

_Sherlock wiped the tears off his son's eyes. "I missed you too. I missed you so much, my son."_

* * *

There was a loud cry.

Everyone in the room turned to find Hamish was standing on the doorway. His face was wet with tears and there was a fearful, sad look on his eyes. His jeans were stained - Jane immediately knew he had had a nightmare and he had wet the bed. She knew Hamish was close to have another fit. And the tears rolling down Hamish's little face were what broke Jane and Sherlock's heart.

"Hamish..." Sherlock started walking towards the little boy. "My son, I've missed you so much -"

Hamish opened his mouth and cried. He raised his index finger and pointed at Sherlock and cried. Tears, countless tears rolled down his face. Sherlock stopped his steps and Jane ran to her eldest child.

"Hamish, it's okay, calm down -"

The six year old boy pushed Jane off him. "You're a liar! You mean!" he pointed at Sherlock and walked one step backward. "I hate you!"

"Hamish please -"

" _I HATE YOU!_ "

The boy stumbled and lose his own balance. Jane saw his little hands on his temples - he was having a migraine. Jane ran to him and started rubbing his back softly.

"Calm down, Hamish. Breath. Take deep breaths."

The adults ignored the noise of a parking car and the front door being opened. Both adults, Jane and Sherlock ignored Matthew was standing on the doorway, his mouth open, his eyes focused on the man with dark curly hair and pale skin standing close to Hamish and Jane. The doctor's eyes also fell on Hamish, who was standing far away from them, his jeans were wet, his eyes wet with tears and shouting 'I hate you!' to the man Matthew knew was Sherlock Holmes, Hamish and Locky's father.

Hamish fell to the floor. He went breathless and he was mumbling incoherent things.

"Mummy... mmmhhhh!"

Sherlock and Jane knelt next to him. Jane was the first to react: she pressed her ear to Hamish's chest and his fingertips to the boy's wrist - his heart was working then. But suddenly she felt helpless. She didn't know what do to. In any other situation, Jane would have been able to perform CPR and she would have been able to perform first aid procedures on anyone. In fact she had done so a few times, but now she was seeing her own child going breathless, losing consciousness and she didn't know what to do.

The detective took Hamish's hand. That's all he could do when suddenly _he_ knelt next to his own son. And _he_ was Doctor Matthew Morstan.

"Matt please help him!" Jane said between tears.

Matthew reached out for his bag and took his stethoscope. He barely looked at Sherlock, his eyes were focused on the breathless boy on the floor when he pushed Sherlock softly off Hamish. "Please move, he needs air."

It took Sherlock a few seconds to react. "Keep your hands off _my_ son!"

Matthew was trying to stabilise Hamish and trying to feel his heartbeats when Sherlock ignored his words and went back to his place next to Hamish. "Please, he needs air -"

Sherlock moved Matthew's hand away from him. "He's my son!"

"Sherlock for God's sake - he's a doctor!" hissed Jane angrily. "Step back, please!"

Matthew turned to Jane. "He needs his inhaler! _NOW!_ "

Sherlock watched the scene in anger. Jane ran to the kitchen where she found Hamish's inhaler and handed it to Matthew. Just a few minutes later Hamish opened his eyes again and he buried his face into the doctor's chest, hiding himself from everyone. Hamish was hiding from Sherlock and even from Jane.

"He's okay now," Matthew said getting to his feet, carrying Hamish in his arms. "I'll take him to his room. He needs to have some rest."

The detective said nothing when he saw Matthew carrying Hamish in his arms and whispering something to Jane's hear.

Locky, who had witnessed the scene quietly, walked towards Sherlock and holding the little balls he had given him earlier, he took the detective's hand. "Play?" Locky asked.

Sherlock looked at Jane and she shook his head. "I think you should go. _Now_."

The detective said nothing. Sherlock knelt in front of Locky and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. "Good bye, Locky," Sherlock said softly, and small, almost unnoticeable tears started rolling down his cheeks. "I love you."

Locky pressed a kiss to his cheek and went upstairs with Matthew and Hamish.

Jane walked past Sherlock and opened the front door for him. "He'll be okay. He needs to have some rest," she said and looked down to the floor. "Please, leave."

Sherlock tied his blue scarf to his neck. "Let me see them. I've missed them so much," Sherlock whispered and leaned a bit forward close to Jane. "Please love, let me see our children. _Please_."

Jane stepped back. "I promise you'll see them, but give them some time."

Sherlock held Jane's hand. "Jane, I _love_ you plea-"

"Stop it. Don't make things more difficult. Just go."

The detective left and Jane closed the door quietly. She leaned against the closed door and pressed a hand to her mouth. But she ignored Matthew was there. And that he had seen and heard everything.

* * *

Jane snuggled up to Matthew to get warm. The doctor moved an arm around her thin shoulders and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. She wrapped an arm around his stomach and looked up so their lips could meet. Their lips met in a soft, warm kiss. Their eyes were closed when Jane deepened the kiss and finally buried her face into the doctor's chest.

"Don't cry," Matthew whispered softly. "Everything is going to be all right."

Jane sobbed loudly. "Why does this have to happen? Why he had to come back?"

Matthew said nothing.

"I don't know what to do. I don't know what to tell Hamish any more," Jane looked up at Matthew. "I don't want him to suffer."

"He's going to be all right."

"He's wetting the bed and having nightmares again."

Matthew ran a hand over Jane's back. "I'll talk to him, don't worry."

"I'm sorry."

"What for?"

Jane snuggled up closer to him. "You shouldn't... this is not the life you deserve."

"And what kind of live do I deserve?"

"Not this, Matthew. You're always looking after them as if you were their father. You're always there when they are ill, when they need you," Jane pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek. "You've done so much for them. And for me too. It's not fair for you. I haven't give you anything back."

The doctor only smiled and wrapped his long, strong arms around her. "I love you, Jane. I love you and the boys, more than I can really explain," he kissed her and then looked into her eyes. "You've given me everything I could possibly ask for. This," the doctor laced their fingers together. "Sophie," both shared a smile. "Don't worry. Everything is going to fine. I'll protect you."

* * *

 

Suddenly everyone was talking about Sherlock Holmes and how he faked his own death. For days and days many papers printed all the possible ways, all their theories of how the detective could have faked his own death. But not only the newspapers were talking about Sherlock Holmes but the news, all sorts of websites, people in the streets... And suddenly everyone knew who James Moriarty was.

Sherlock had been caught outside Baker Street and many reporters were there ready to ask questions.

Jane watched the news and knew she had always been right: James Moriarty had existed. He was a criminal mastermind and the key code he had used to erase his true identity and 'create' Richard Brook was now in safe hands (or that's what the police and Sherlock had stated).

So now that Sherlock Holmes was not a 'fake genius' but a 'brilliant detective' everyone was requiring his services and now Sherlock Holmes was being offered all sorts of jobs. However, the detective rejected them all. He wanted to focus on his children and have all the time of the world to be with them. But it had been days since Sherlock had last seen Jane and his children. Every time he called or sent Jane texts, she always said the same: that Hamish was not well and that he needed more time.

"If it's of any consolation, Jane is not lying," Mycroft said, eyes focused on his young brother. "Hamish has a weak heart."

Sherlock continued stroking the strings of his violin. "I've met him."

"Of course you have."

"He's hateful."

Mycroft showed no emotion whatsoever. "Doctor Morstan? Mummy and father adore him."

"I can tell."

When Sherlock saw his parents again, he couldn't help but let both of his parents embrace him as if he was a little boy again. Sherlock couldn't remember when had been the last time they had hugged him like this. They had asked him thousand and thousand of questions such as _where have you been to? What happened to you? Have you got hurt? Have you killed people?_

_Have you seen the boys?_

And of course: _Have you met Doctor Morstan?_

Sherlock only said yes and his mother, always so talkative wouldn't stop praising Doctor Morstan's good heart, how good he was with the boys, how good man he was, how happy he had made them and Jane and so on.

"So does Jane," Mycroft said dismissively. "And your children."

Sherlock froze. "I'm not blind."

"You haven't deduced much."

"Where were you?" snapped Sherlock. "Where were you when he appeared? I asked you to take care of her!" Mycroft remained silent. "She's engaged, she's adopting a baby that should be mine - _ours_ \- and my children love him as if he were their father," Sherlock shouted and put his violin aside. "You should have done something."

The politician clenched his teeth. "I did all I could -"

"You should have killed him! We both know you can make anyone disappear without leaving a trace," Sherlock shouted, his grey piercing eyes on his brother. "I was not only protecting my family but _yo_ u too," Sherlock said softly. "I chased all sorts of criminals to keep your beloved country safe."

"I kidnapped him, I hired a prostitute to seduce him. I researched him and he's clean," Mycroft enumerated. "There's nothing that I could possibly have used to destroy him. And every time I tried to separate them, their love got always stronger."

Sherlock frowned. "Their love?"

"Haven't you seen it yet?" Sherlock said nothing. "She loves him," Mycroft said. "They are trying to build a family together. Before..." the politician hesitated for a moment. "before Sophia, they had contemplated having their own children. In fact, I have Jane's medical reports," Sherlock shifted on his chair. "She had a pregnancy blood test done."

Sherlock clenched his teeth. "Was it negative?"

Mycroft said nothing.

"She's not pregnant."

"No, she isn't," Mycroft replied.

Sherlock felt his own heart aching inside his chest. "Was she ever?"

The politician said nothing.

"What did he do to her?" Sherlock asked, almost uncertain of the question. "She's not the same. She's not _my_ Jane any more."

Mycroft's eyes danced over the mantelpiece he remembered used to be always decorated with pictures: pictures of Jane and Sherlock, pictures of Sherlock and Hamish, pictures of Jane, Sherlock and Hamish, all together. But it was empty now. Everything was half empty. Mycroft knew he would never understand what love was, what it feels like. But Mycroft was certain love hurts.

And by just looking at Sherlock's lost eyes, Mycroft knew how much love was hurting him.

"He loved her. He gave her peace, hopes. Doctor Morstan gave Jane all the things she had lost when you 'died'."

* * *

 

"Take a deep breath and..." Matthew pressed his stethoscope to Hamish's left side of his chest and nodded. "Good."

They were sitting together in Hamish's room. Matthew was checking on the little boy's heart beats and blood pressure as always to make himself sure Hamish was fine and not in pain and to see if his heart was working properly.

For the past days Hamish had been very quiet and he barely talked unless he was asked questions. He stopped playing with Locky after doing his homework and now he would only sit in his room, read a book or simply look out his room window. One of his teachers had already talked to Matthew and asked him if there was something happening at home because she had noticed Hamish was very quiet and that he was needing more help in class.

Hamish was not blind nor deaf. He had seen the news and read the newspapers. Well, he had seen pictures of Sherlock printed on most of the newspapers and the headline _'The Detective Who Came Back from The Dead'_. Jane tried to talk to him about it, about Sherlock and about how much he needed to see him, but Hamish refused to talk about it.

"How are you feeling, poppet?"

Hamish shrugged.

"Mish, I need you to tell me whether you're in pain or not so I can give you your medicines."

"'m fine."

Matthew pulled the boy closer. "Are you angry?"

The boy just nodded.

"Why are you angry?"

Hamish said nothing.

Matthew placed an arm around the boy's shoulders and pressed a kiss to his head. "Your daddy loves you, Mish. Don't be angry with him."

"He doesn't love me."

"That's not true," the doctor turned to face Hamish. "If he hadn't loved you, he wouldn't have done what he did."

Hamish burst into tears. "He said he was dead and he left me!"

"But he had no choice, poppet. There was a bad guy who wanted to hurt you and your mummy. He did it to protect you."

"I don't understand."

Matthew bit his lip. "Why don't you talk to him?"

The doctor noticed Hamish was considering the idea.

"He needs to see you, Hamish. You're his son and he misses you," the doctor said softly. "I had children too, remember I told you?" Hamish nodded. "I miss them lots. I know what your daddy feels, and he must be desperate to see you again."

Hamish nodded. "I want to see him, Matt."

"Why you told us you didn't want to?"

"Because I'm scared," Hamish confessed between tears. "I don't want him to leave me again."

Matthew only wiped the tears off the boy's face and smiled. "He won't leave you again. I'm sure he won't."

"How d'you know?"

"Because I know he loves you," replied Matthew fully convinced of his own words.

* * *

 

Matthew liked to multi task. He was able to read a book while feeding Sophie and keeping an eye on Hamish or Locky or on both, and while cooking dinner. This afternoon the doctor was keeping an eye on Locky, who was calmly playing in the living room with the colourful balls his father had given him, he had just finished feeding Sophie her bottle and he was reading some medical books. Jane had to go to the doctor's so he was alone with the three children and Matthew knew Sherlock was coming to visit the boys.

The doorbell rang and Matthew shifted Sophie so she would lie on his chest and he supported her weight with his left arm. "Daddy's here," the doctor said standing up and focusing on Locky.

"Yay!" Locky said.

Now Locky was fascinated by the detective. As the little toddler didn't speak much, every time Jane mentioned him Locky would smile and his eyes would lit up. Matthew was happy for that, because he knew how much Sherlock needed to see his children after so long and how much the boys needed their father.

Matthew opened the door and extended his hand. "Hello -"

Sherlock only walked past him without saying a word.

The doctor watched the detective getting inside, without a previous invitation and ignoring him, not even saying 'hello' and soon realised Sherlock Holmes was a very difficult person to deal with.

Sherlock got in. He would have done it without Matthew's invitation anyway. He walked to the living room and found Locky sitting on the floor and playing with those colourful balls he had given him when they met. There were no signals of Jane.

"Hello, Sherlock," Sherlock said kneeling next to his son.

Little Sherlock shook his head. "Locky."

"He doesn't like to be called 'Sherlock'," Matthew said standing across Sherlock and gesturing him to have a seat. "He prefers 'Locky'."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Have I asked for your input?"

Matthew preferred to ignore that. "May I offer you something to drink? Tea? Coffee maybe?"

"Where's Jane?"

The doctor sat down on his chair and shifted Sophie so she would lie on his lap. "She had a medical appointment she couldn't cancel. She should be back..." Matthew looked at his watch. "She should be back soon."

Sherlock looked at him from head to toes. He noticed both shared the same taste when it comes to clothes. Dark trousers, tailored, similar shirts. Even his hair made them look very much alike. Both men and dark, curly hair. However, Matthew's skin was slightly tanned and his eyes were blue when Sherlock's skin was pale and his eyes were grey.

The detective was convinced Jane was only with Matthew because of the resemblance and not because she loved him, contrary to everyone's belief.

"Hamish?"

"Napping."

Sherlock's eyes were fixated on the small element over the coffee table when Matthew noticed Sherlock had seen the baby monitor.

"It's Hamish's. He doesn't know there's one in his room," said Matthew.

"Why does he have one?"

"He has fists and suffers from migraines. We need to monitor him all the time so that way we know when he needs our help."

Sherlock glared at Matthew and then she focused on his little son when Jane arrived.

"Hello."

Sherlock said nothing.

Matthew stood up and helped her with her coat. "Everything all right?" he asked worried. "What did the doctor say?"

"I'm fine," Jane said dismissively. "Has Hamish woken up?"

"Not yet."

"I want to see him," Sherlock cut them off. "Upstairs, first door to my left?"

Matthew frowned. "How do you -"

"Not a difficult guess."

Jane cleared her throat. "Please Sherlock, go slowly."

Sherlock took the baby monitor and pulled the batteries out before going upstairs. Both Jane and Matthew knew he did that because he didn't want them to listen to his and Hamish's conversation.

The detective turned and went upstairs.

* * *

Once Sherlock was on the first floor of the house, he glanced at the pictures hanging on the walls. There was a picture of Jane wearing scrubs. She was smiling and she looked happy, excited. Next to her was a group of students too, her classmates. There was another picture of her and Matthew together at Bart's. He had an arm around her shoulders and both were smiling, both looked happy.

But Sherlock turned to the first door to his left - Hamish's room. He knocked once but he got no response. He opened the door slowly and found a very neat room. The walls were white and light blue. There was a wardrobe, a chest of drawers, a box with toys and cars and a desk and a chair. Over the desk were books, pencils, Hamish's school bag and pictures. Sherlock noticed there were pictures everywhere he looked at: on the walls, on the desk, on the bedside table next to the bed. And he was in all those pictures. There were pictures of him and Hamish when he was only a little boy, pictures of them that had been taken by Jane too; pictured of them sleeping together, playing together.

The detective sat next to Hamish and caressed the boy's fair hair. He couldn't help but think how much he had missed. Sherlock missed Hamish's birthdays, Christmases, his first day at school. He had missed several things and he hated himself for it. Sherlock wished he could go back in time and change all the things he had done: his addiction, those two years that he had been away to get clean and in which he missed Hamish's first two years. And Sherlock still couldn't forgive himself for what he did, for hurting Jane and consequently Hamish when he was a baby inside her. Sherlock knew that if he hadn't hurt her like that, Hamish wouldn't have those hearing, cognitive and heart problems.

It hurt.

Sherlock pressed a soft kiss to his son's cheek and Hamish opened his eyes.

"Dad?"

Little tears rolled down Sherlock's face. "Hello, Hamish."

Neither of them said a word for long seconds, until Hamish sat on the bed and and showed Sherlock was he was wearing. He was wearing Sherlock's blue scarf, that same blue scarf the detective left when he visited him when he was in a coma.

The little boy burst into tears and threw his arms around Sherlock's neck. He buried his face into his shoulder and cried for long minutes. The detective only rubbed his back softly and cried with him. After all, that's all he could do.

"I missed you, daddy," Hamish said softly.

Sherlock wiped the tears off his son's eyes. "I missed you too. I missed you so much, my son."

"Why you had to go, daddy?" Hamish asked softly. "Why you left me? Is it because I'm deaf and retarded?"

Hamish's questions broke Sherlock's heart. On one side, it hurt him he would have to explain him there was a man who wanted him to be death, and that there were three men aiming guns to him, to Jane and to her belly, to Locky. And it hurt Sherlock to hear his own son calling himself, referring himself as a 'deaf' and 'retarded'.

"There was someone who wanted to hurt you and your mummy. So I had to... to disappear for a while," Sherlock explained. "I didn't leave because you're..." Sherlock trailed off. "I never wanted to leave you, Jane and Locky."

Hamish sobbed against Sherlock's chest. "But why?"

"Because..." Sherlock didn't know what to say. "I was a detective, remember?" Hamish nodded. "And _he_ didn't want me help people."

"Why?"

"Because he was mean."

Hamish pressed a kiss to Sherlock's cheek. "I don't wanna you to leave me, dad," Hamish said between tears. "Please don't leave me. I promise I'll be a good boy. _I promise_."

"You don't have to promise me anything. _I_ promise you I won't leave you again," Sherlock smiled and buried his hand into his coat pocket. "Look at this."

Sherlock showed Hamish all those drawings the little boy had left at his grave. He had all of them. Every single drawing Hamish had left at his grave, Sherlock had them all.

"You have my pictures!"

The detective nodded. "Of course. I keep them all. All this time, I've been keeping your pictures with me."

Hamish smiled and then pointed at the scarf he was wearing. "You were with me, right? When I was sleeping?"

"Yes," Sherlock said embracing his six year old son, knowing he was talking about the time he was in a coma. "I was there with you."

"I knew it! I told mummy but she said it was a dream."

"It was not a dream. I was there."

Jane knocked the door and got inside. She was carrying Locky in her arms. "Hello, baby. Are you okay?" Jane asked, pressing a hand to Hamish's forehead and checking he was not feverish.

Hamish nodded and smiled. "Yes! Look, mummy! Daddy has my pictures!"

Jane looked at the drawings. She remembered seeing her son drawing and colouring pictures every time she told him they were going to visit Sherlock's grave.

Locky crawled on the bed and sat over Sherlock's lap.

"I've got this," Sherlock said whilst handing Jane her last ultrasound before Locky was born. "Mycroft said you left it at my -"

"Yes, I had," Jane cut Sherlock off and looking at the scan. Then she turned to Locky. "Look, Locky, it's you when you were in my tummy."

Locky looked at the scan with wide eyes. "Dat me?"

"Yes."

"Daddy stay for dinner, please!"

Sherlock looked at Jane. "I don't think -"

"Please mummy, can daddy stay for dinner?" Hamish almost begged. "Please, please, please?"

"Um, okay."

* * *

"And my teacher says I can read well too."

Sherlock smiled at his son. "That's good."

They were all sitting together and having dinner. Jane cooked fish and chips, Hamish and Locky's favourite and the only one talking was Hamish, though Locky mumbled and babbled a few words. Matthew remained silent and so did Jane. Every time Sherlock looked up, he met Doctor Morstan's eyes. Matthew was sitting at the head of the table, Jane was sitting to his right and Locky to his left. Next to him was Hamish and at the other end of the table was Sherlock.

"Are you gonna live with us, dad?"

"No."

Hamish frowned. "Why?"

"Because Jane and I are not in a relationship any more."

Jane almost dropped her fork.

A long silence filled the room and it took Hamish a few minutes to process his father's words and realise Jane was not with his daddy any more but with Matthew.

Hamish turned to his mummy. "Why?"

Jane's angry eyes fell on Sherlock. "Hamish, I think we should talk about this later -"

"But -"

Sherlock cleared his throat. "I think _our_ son must be given a proper explanation about the current situation right now."

Jane bit her lip. Under the table, she felt Matthew's warm hand on her thigh, his reassuring touch. And Sherlock saw that. He could even see the doctor's hand on Jane's thigh.

"Why daddy can't stay, mummy?"

"Because we're not a couple any more," Jane said softly. "We're like Marty's parents."

Hamish just nodded. "So I can't see daddy any more? Because Marty's mummy sometimes doesn't let Marty see his daddy."

"Marty's situation is different," Matthew commented. "Of course you'll see your dad, Jane will never -"

Sherlock cut Matthew off. "I think that's something Jane and I ought to discuss with him. Do stay out of the conversation."

Matthew looked at him and then at Jane. A long silence filled the room and Matthew felt Hamish and Locky's confused eyes on him, Sherlock's icy eyes on him and soon he felt Jane's warm hand over his. The doctor faked a smile to the children and picked up his almost empty plate and his glass of wine. "I've just remembered I had some paperwork to do for tomorrow."

Jane got to her feet. "Matt, he didn't mean -"

The doctor faked a smile. "It's okay. I think you and Sherlock have things to talk about privately."

"Yes we do," Sherlock said and waving his hand dismissively.

Jane glared at him and started picking up the plates. She could hear Sherlock and the boys playing in the living room. Whilst Sherlock and Locky played together, Hamish told his daddy about school, about his friends, about his toys and about his last birthday party in which Nan Lizzie hired a clown who was not funny at all.

A few minutes later Jane eventually explained Hamish that just because she and Sherlock were not together any more, it didn't mean he and Locky would not see their father. Jane said that they would always see their daddy when they wanted to.

"And just because we're not together, it doesn't mean we don't love you," Jane explained. "Okay?"

Hamish nodded. "And Matt?"

"What about him?" Sherlock asked.

"He's my boyfriend, that's all."

Hamish turned to his daddy. "And you, dad? You got a girlfriend? Because Marty's mummy has a boyfriend and his daddy has a girlfriend."

"I'm not wrong if I say 'Marty' is some sort of friend?"

Jane rolled her eyes. "He's Hamish's best friend."

"No," Sherlock said looking straight into Jane's eyes. "Didn't have much free time like your mother. Apparently she had lots to get herself a _boyfriend_."

They shouldn't be hurting each other and themselves like this. Jane felt those words as knives stabbing her heart. She looked away and pressed a thumb to her eye, to prevent the tears to fall down her face. And Sherlock knew he was hurting Jane. But now both care little about each other. Both were not the couple, the people they used to be.

Now they were mere strangers.

"Hamish, Locky, it's late. Time to go to bed."

Both Hamish and Locky fought to stay a bit longer, but they had to follow their mummy's orders. Locky and Hamish hugged their daddy and the latter made Sherlock promise he would visit again, and that he would take them to the park or to the cinema because one of their favourite films was on. Sherlock promised them they would have all they wanted and that he loved them.

"Good night, Locky," Sherlock kissed the boy's cheek. "Good night, Hamish," the detective repeated the process and hugged them tightly. "I love you."

"I love you too, dad."

Jane kissed their foreheads. "Go upstairs and ask Matt to help you brush your teeth."

As soon as the boys were out of earshot, the war started.

"Why you said that?"

Sherlock showed no emotion whatsoever. "Why I said what?"

"Don't play stupid with me."

"I said a lot of things. Oh -" and realisation hit Sherlock. "About you having lots of free time to get yourself a boyfriend?"

Jane bit her lip and looked at Sherlock angrily. "I don't care what you say or think about me, as long as you keep it to yourself. But never again say something like that in front of them."

"That's not all. You're angry for what I told _him_. Oh. Defending the boyfriend. How noble of you," Sherlock said sarcastically. "He should have said nothing. This is between _you_ and _me_."

"You had no right to talk to Matthew like that."

Sherlock shook his head. "Why? I'll talk to him as I please - he's _no one_ and he must stay out of this."

"He's done more for Hamish and Locky than you'll ever do."

Sherlock frowned, but said nothing. Jane's words were like bullets going through his chest - through his heart more likely. He had faked his own death and he chased criminals, he killed lots of assassins and he had almost got killed only to protect them, to protect his children. And to protect her as well.

"I believe you have already planned some sort of scheme or schedule," Sherlock said changing the subject.

"Weekends."

"Pardon?"

Jane picked up the keys and got to her feet. "You'll see them during the weekends. You can come here or take them to Baker Street."

Sherlock followed her to the front door. He knew she was, without saying it, kicking him out of her house. "And if I asked, you won't let me see them during the week I presume."

"If you want to see them during the week then you would have to come here. Hamish goes to school and Locky will start going to nursery soon," Jane said whilst opening the front door. "Hamish does his homework and studies during the afternoon."

There was an icy look on Sherlock's eyes. "I'll pick them up next Friday afternoon."

Sherlock knew he shouldn't be asking for permission to see his children. He should be living with them.

But all these things were the consequences of his own actions.

"I'm taking them to your parents' this Sunday."

Sherlock nodded. "I know. My parents have already told me about Sundays."

"Love, come to bed, it's late -" Matthew said stepping into the living room, wearing nothing but a pair of pyjama trousers and a dressing gown, and soon he realised Sherlock was still there. "Sorry, I didn't know -"

"Will see them this Sunday." Sherlock said, eyes focused on Matthew.

Then he turned and left.

For some reason, that night, when Jane felt Matthew's lips on her neck, on her body and his strong arms around her slender waist, she panted his name. But Matthew was not in her mind.

The man in her mind, in her thoughts, was no one else but Sherlock Holmes.


	23. I Wish

_"I wish I had been there when you said your first word. When you walked your first steps," Sherlock said focusing on the child in his arms. "I wish I was the father of those brothers or sisters you will have soon."_

* * *

It was a Friday afternoon. Sherlock was standing in front of Doctor Morstan's door house when he rang the bell and in mere seconds Hamish opened the door and jumped over him.

"Dad!"

Sherlock smiled. Hamish's sparkling eyes on him felt so warm, so sincere and they were what made the detective feel welcome there. "Hello, Hamish."

"Mummy said we're gonna stay with you, is that true?" Hamish asked whilst closing the door, taking Sherlock's hand and leading him to the living room.

"Yes. Where's your brother?"

Jane appeared carrying two colourful children's backpacks and behind her was Locky. "Hello," she said casually.

"Hello."

Suddenly, Sherlock was being given two little backpacks filled with what Sherlock presumed were clothes and some toys. In addition to that, Jane had also packed a blue nappies bag with a mug (Hamish's), a bottle, formula and a dummy (Locky's) and wet wipes. And the boys were already putting on their coats, getting themselves ready to go.

"Hamish can't run or do any kind of exercise," Jane said handing Sherlock the inhaler. "I've got this for you. He's got his own, but um, carry this one everywhere you go, just in case," Sherlock nodded. "You must check his temperature when he wakes up in the morning and before going to sleep at night. If he happens to be feverish, give him a bath. If it's still high, call me."

"I can manage."

Jane rolled her eyes. "I know you can."

"What else?"

"Do not take them to McDonald's."

"I was not going to."

"I'm sure Mrs Hudson will help you with their food. Put them to bed early. Give them milk or tea, not coffee. I'll pick them up on Sunday afternoon," then Jane turned to Hamish and Locky. "Be good to your father. And remember you can call me whenever you want, no matter what time is, okay?"

Hamish nodded. "How I'm s'possed to call you, mummy? I don't have a phone."

"Your father's got my number," Jane said to her son and looked at Sherlock. "ask him or Nan Hudson, okay?"

"Okay."

"Have you said bye to Matthew?"

Both boys nodded.

"Okay," Jane knelt and hugged both children. "Now come here and give me a hug. I'll miss you."

Both boys said goodbye to their mummy. Sherlock took the nappies bag and watched at the scene before him. Jane was kneeling on the floor and both boys had thrown their arms around her neck. Both were kissing her and telling her they were going to miss her. And Sherlock couldn't help but realise how much Hamish and Locky loved Jane, how close to her they were. And it was not surprising at all. She had been their mother and their father for the last three years after all.

Jane opened her eyes and looked up at Sherlock. Both held their gazes for seconds, until Jane stood up and walked the boys to the door. Hamish took Sherlock's left hand while Locky took his daddy's right.

"Take care of them," she said softly. "Promise me you'll take good care of them."

"I will," what's all the detective said.

And when Jane closed the door of the house, Sherlock found himself carrying a nappies bag, holding his children's little hands with not a single idea of what to do next.

* * *

"Oh, look at you," Mrs Hudson kissed the boy's cheeks. "Don't you look adorable? The three of you together!"

Hamish smiled. "You baked a cake, Nan?"

"That was meant to be a surprise! Did you father tell you?"

"Nope," Hamish giggled. "I deduced it! Like daddy!"

The landlady smiled fondly. "Good!"

"Mrs Hudson have you prepared the room upstairs?" Sherlock asked, opening the nappies bag and taking the bottle and Hamish's mug out to prepare them their milk.

"Of course," She said and walked towards the detective. "Now go and help them to unpack. I'll prepare Locky's bottle and Hamish's tea."

The boys liked their room. After all, they had lived there just a few months ago before moving in to Matthew's house. Sherlock got them new beds and a small table and chairs for them (Jane had taken them when she moved in with Matthew) and nothing else while Mrs Hudson helped him to get the bed linen, curtains and other things to decorate the room and so it wouldn't look so empty. However, Sherlock knew he would have to get them more furniture and other things too soon if they were going to live with him during the weekends.

"Next weekend you'll have a proper place to sleep, I promise."

Hamish sat on his bed and unpacked his books and pencils. "Dad, will you help me with my homework?"

"Of course."

"Dad... 'ungy!"

Sherlock frowned.

"He says he's hungry," Hamish said.

"Oh."

Just in time, Mrs Hudson had finished preparing tea. On the table downstairs was Hamish's chocolate milkshake, Locky's bottle, Sherlock's tea and a plate with sponge cake. Both boys sat with their father, Locky next to him and Hamish across him and soon their eyes were on the sponge cake. The landlady had suggested Sherlock baking them a few things instead of having them eating unhealthy things such as chocolate cookies and so on. Sherlock had accepted her help without complaining since he was well aware Mrs Hudson knew them pretty well - she was like their grandmother.

But Mrs Hudson had the greatest idea of leaving Sherlock and his children alone. It was the first time Sherlock was left alone with both of his sons since he had come back and he had no idea of what to do, what to say. Hamish had already forgiven him and Sherlock sort of knew him. He had raised Hamish before having to 'fake' his own death, but the problem was Locky. Locky was very little to understand they were back to Baker Street because Jane had allowed it. Locky was told, several times, that Sherlock was his daddy. His and Hamish's. And he was calling Sherlock 'dad' or 'daddy', but Sherlock doubted Locky really understood the meaning of the word.

"Milk."

Sherlock moved the bottle forward. "That's yours."

"No... milk," Locky whispered.

"He drinks his milk like a baby," Hamish told Sherlock.

The detective frowned. "Like a baby?"

"Yep," Hamish folded his arms, showing Sherlock how Locky liked to drink his milk. "like a little baby."

Sherlock remembered seeing Jane feeding Locky his bottle as if he were a little baby when he went to her house. She had said something about Locky not wanting to stop using his bottle. Sherlock didn't like this. Hamish was Locky's age when he stopped using the bottle and drinking his milk in a proper cup. Nor did Sherlock approve of Locky using a pacifier all the time.

Sherlock handed Locky the bottle. "Drink your milk like a grown boy."

"No... pwease."

There were little tears already falling from the corner of Locky's eyes.

"Does he always do this?" Sherlock asked.

Hamish nodded, sipping his milkshake. "He never drinks his milk by himself."

"Does your mother always do this?"

The six year old boy didn't quite know what Sherlock tried to say. "Yeah. Sometimes mummy feeds Sophie and Matthew feeds Locky," Hamish laughed. "Mummy says Locky doesn't want to grow up... what does that mean, dad?"

Sherlock processed his eldest son's words. Deep inside him, Sherlock pictured Matthew feeding Locky his bottle. "It means he wants to be a baby forever."

"Milk!"

"And can he be a baby forever?"

"No," Sherlock said taking Locky in his arms and letting him lie on his lap and rest his head on the crook of his arm. "He'll grow up and become an adult."

"When?"

Sherlock started feeding Locky his bottle and smiled at the toddler in his arms. He remembered feeding Hamish like this when he was little too. He had waited for this moment for so long, for so many years. For three long years. And now there he was, feeding his two year old son as if he were a baby, a little, fragile baby.

"Never, I hope," Sherlock said softly, caressing his son's dark curls. "I wish you could stay like this forever," he said to the boy in his arms. "The world is full of hatred, bad people..." Sherlock pressed a soft kiss to Locky's forehead. "Be my baby forever, Locky."

* * *

"... And then the little boy hugged his dog tightly and said: 'I love you, Gladstone'," Sherlock turned to the last page and glanced at his children only to see Locky was already sleeping next to Hamish, who was still awake and listening at him carefully. "And they lived happily ever after. The end."

Hamish smiled and yawned. "I want a dog."

"Your have already asked your mother and her partner, haven't you?"

The boy nodded. "Yeah. We almost got one, but then mummy and Matthew bringed Sophie and mummy said we can't have a dog now because Sophie is very little."

"It is 'brought'," Sherlock corrected Hamish. Then, the detective moved Locky to his bed and covered Hamish with his duvet.

"Matt said Sophie's parents left her in a bin. Why people do that, dad? Mummy says it's a lot not good."

Sherlock sat next to Hamish on his bed and pressed a hand to his forehead to check he was not feverish. "There are people who don't want their children."

"You and mummy are not gonna leave me in a bin, right?" Hamish asked worriedly.

"Of course not. We love you."

Hamish rested his head on Sherlock's chest. "Dad?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you Sophie's daddy too?"

"Why you ask?" Sherlock asked curiously.

"Cause you are my daddy and Locky's daddy. And if Sophie's our sister, that means you're gonna be her daddy too, right?"

Sherlock shook his head. "No."

"Why?" Hamish frowned.

"Because Sophia is Jane and..." Sherlock looked away. He preferred to bite his tongue before pronouncing his name. "I presume your mother and her partner will adopt her and be Sophia's parents. Not me."

"And d'you like Sophie?"

Sherlock nodded. "Yes. She's beautiful. Do you like her?"

"Yes! Sophie's very nice and she never cries. And she's my sister," Hamish looked up at his daddy. "Dad?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you gonna have babies?"

The detective shook his head. "No."

"Why?"

"Because I got you and Locky. I don't want to have more babies than you."

Sherlock indeed wanted to tell Hamish he truth, that he wanted to have more children - but not with any other woman but with Jane. Years ago he and Jane had planned to have more babies, have a big family. But now Jane had rebuilt her life, she was getting married to another man, she was adopting a baby girl and she was probably going to be a mother again soon. And Sherlock didn't want to rebuild his life with another woman and have more children. He only wanted Jane. Sherlock could only conceive of a life with Jane.

But he had to understand Jane will never be his again.

"I heard mummy and Matt talking once and mummy said she wanted to have more babies."

"Really? Do you want to have more brothers or sisters?" Sherlock asked, inwardly hurt, fearing his son's answer.

"Yes!"

"I'm sure you'll have them."

"You think?"

The detective nodded. "Yes. I'm sure you'll have a brother or sister soon."

"G'night daddy," Hamish said kissing Sherlock's cheek. "I love you."

"I love you too, Hamish. You're my son and I will always love you."

* * *

Sherlock sat on the kitchen and started organising his petri dishes. He had found them all stored in boxes in 221 C. Most of his things had been taken there when he died and luckily Mrs Hudson hadn't given his lab equipment to some school. And now that he was 'alive' again, he was trying to assemble his microscope, the petri dishes and the tests tubs when he felt a pair of grey eyes peering through the kitchen door.

"Can't sleep?"

Locky practically run to him. Sherlock sat the little toddler on his lap and pressed a kiss to his curls.

"What's wrong, Locky?"

He said nothing.

"You don't talk much, do you?"

Locky smiled.

"I was like you, you know," Sherlock said moving the things off the table and sitting Locky on the empty space in front of him. "I didn't talk much."

Locky ran a hand over Sherlock's dark curls.

"You're not like your brother. He wouldn't stop talking when he was your age."

The toddler smiled.

"It's late. Want to sleep with me?"

Locky just nodded and Sherlock went to his room, carrying Locky in his arms. The detective lie on his side of the bed and placed Locky on the opposite side, on Jane's old side of the bed. He covered them both with a duvet and pressed a soft kiss to the boy's forehead.

"I remember touching Jane's stomach and feeling you kicking inside her," the detective said softly. "She said you could feel me. Is that true?"

Locky stared at his daddy but said nothing.

"You can't imagine how much Jane and I wanted you. How much we longed for you."

The toddler snuggled up to Sherlock and the detective moved his arm so he would cuddle him.

"I wish I had been there when you said your first word. When you walked your first steps," Sherlock said focusing on the child in his arms. "I wish I was the father of the brothers or sisters you will have soon."

Locky closed his eyes and fell asleep. It was not always that easy for him to fall asleep. Most of the times his mummy or Matthew would have to read him several stories, hold him in their arms or just try to find a way to make him conceive some sleep. But tonight Locky only needed to hear his daddy's voice and feel his long arms around his little body.

For the lasts three years, Sherlock had to get used to sleeping in all sorts of places, from expensive hotel rooms to street alleys. From using a comfortable bed to lie over nothing but the cold floor of any city.

This time, Sherlock had a hard time trying to fall asleep. He had got used to sleep alone that this time that he had his youngest child snuggling against him, the detective couldn't help but press soft kisses to his son's curls, and breath his scent in, trying to collect as much as possible of that son he had to leave when he was merely a little baby still developing inside his mother.

"I love you, Locky."

* * *

 

"Where are we goin', dad?"

Sherlock hailed a cab and helped his children to get inside. "Shopping."

They went to several shops. Sherlock was against it, against crowds of people on a Saturday morning filling in every street and every shop, but he knew his children needed to get a lot of things now that they were going to live with him during the weekends.

"But I got three mugs at home!"

"You and your brother will have your own things for when you stay with me," Sherlock explained and pointed at the mugs. "This one?"

"No! I want one with a picture of Thor!"

"Thor? The God of Thunder from the Norse Mythology?"

"No. Don't be silly, dad," Hamish pointed at a blue plastic mug with a picture of a blonde man holding a hammer printed on it. "That's Thor. And he's very strong!"

Once Sherlock had got Hamish a mug, he knew he needed to get Locky a new one as well.

"A bottle? You're too old for a bottle."

Locky shook his head and pointed at the first bottle he had seen. "Bottle."

Sherlock bought the bottle reluctantly.

He got them pyjamas, a few clothes and toys. Sherlock wanted his children to have the same things they had at their home with Jane so that way, every Friday he picked them up so they would spend the weekend with him, they wouldn't have to pack and unpack clothes and toys every single weekend. And because he wanted his children to know they had a room at Baker Street. Sherlock had read children, during these kind of processes in which they live with their mother and then with their father in separate houses, they need to have their own space at each house.

And after two hours of shopping, they went to Angelo's and occupied the table near the windows.

"Sherlock!" The Italian man patted the detective's back and handed him a menu. "Everything you and... Who are these lovely kids?"

"They are Hamish and Sherlock," said Sherlock looking at the menu. "They are my children."

Angelo kissed each boy and smiled fondly at them. "My, what a lovely pair you are! And you," said Angelo focusing on Hamish. "I think... I remember now!" The man turned to Sherlock. "You came here with your wife!"

"Yes, I did. I'll have pasta and two small portions for them."

"Where's she now?" Angelo turned to the kids. "I know, you're waiting for her?"

Sherlock closed the menu and handed it back to the owner of the restaurant. "Quick, please."

Angelo returned with the orders, wine for Sherlock and water for the children.

"'elp. Matt 'elp."

"Matt always helps Locky with his food," said Hamish before Sherlock could ask.

Sherlock felt a bit jealous inside. He sat Locky on his lap and helped him with his food.

* * *

"I visiting some friends. I'm sorry, dear."

Sherlock's eyes dropped on his children who were playing with their new toys in the living room. "You're doing this on purpose. So I learn the lesson."

"No such thing as lesson, young man," Mrs Hudson patted Sherlock's arm. "I'm sorry, but you'll have to deal with this alone. You're a grown man and you have to get to know them better; what they like to eat, their favourite cereal. Even their favourite superhero film."

"It's not fair. You helped Jane."

Mrs Hudson smiled bitterly. "Because if it hadn't been for them," the landlady said looking at the boys sitting together on the sofa. "She would have killed herself."

Sherlock said nothing.

"When you died she was so depressed and she only ate because we reminded her she had a baby inside. You got two parents and a brother who love you, but Jane had no one else but you."

"She considers you and D.I. Lestrade her parents. Even they call you Nan," Sherlock said, eyes focused on his children.

Mrs Hudson nodded. "Don't complain, dear. She had to deal with a three year old toddler and a newborn baby. There were nights when both cried together at the same time and she had to feed Locky while reading Hamish a story."

"That explains it."

"What?"

"Why she hates me now."

"Life is like a chocolate box, dear -"

"Don't use analogies."

Mrs Hudson smiled. " -we never know what we're going to get. Some things are meant to happen for a reason."

"What? The fact she's getting married to another man was meant to be? What for?"

"Life is complicated," Mrs Hudson said while kissing their boys' foreheads in farewell. "But after the storm the sun always shines!"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Stop with the analogies!"

* * *

 

"I know! You dad will be Odin and I'll be Thor and Locky will be Loki," Hamish said after the film had finished. "And you'll make me a King!"

Sherlock looked at his watch and bit his lip. Jane was supposed to come soon. And Sherlock couldn't help but feel sad, knowing that his children were leaving soon and that he was not going to see them until next Friday.

"You should go upstairs and start packing your things. Your mother is to pick you up soon."

Hamish pouted. "I wanna stay here."

"I want you to stay here as well," Sherlock said sitting on his chair and running his fingers through his eldest son's fair hair. "I'll pick you up next Friday and we'll go to the park, okay?"

"Okay."

* * *

"Matt?"

The doctor, who was sitting at his desk, put his books aside and removed his reading glasses. "Yes, love?"

"Are you busy?"

"No," he said with a smile and pushed his chair back. Then, his eyes dropped on her and noticed Jane was pale. "Are you okay?"

Jane faked a smile. "Yeah."

"You look pale," Matthew said worriedly. "Come here."

Jane walked towards him and sat on his lap. "I'm fine."

"You're not feverish," Matthew said after checking Jane's temperature by pressing his hand to her forehead. "Are you in pain?"

"No."

The doctor then pressed a hand to her flat belly. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I was wondering if you could give me a lift."

"Are you picking up the boys?"

Jane nodded. "I miss them."

"I've missed them too," the doctor admitted. "The house feels so empty without them."

* * *

Sherlock was putting his violin into its case when he heard a car parking and looked through the window. Jane and Matthew were getting off the car. Sherlock saw Jane was holding Sophia and both were getting inside the building.

From the living room Sherlock heard their voices and Mrs Hudson's. The landlady wouldn't stop saying how big and how beautiful baby Sophie was. Sherlock couldn't help but think that baby should be his and Jane's. Not Jane and her new partner's.

Sherlock sat on his chair and heard a pair of feet getting close to his flat.

"Hello."

Sherlock looked at her from head to toes. "Hello."

Hamish was the first running to greet her. "Mummy!"

"Hey, how are you poppet? Had a good time?"

"Yes!" The boy showed Jane his new book. "Look! Daddy got me this book. It's about a boy and a dog. Can we get a dog, mummy?"

Jane ran her fingers through the boy's fair hair. "Sophie's still very little. Maybe in a few months."

"'lo mummy," Locky said clinging to Jane.

"Hello sweetheart. Did you miss me?"

Locky nodded and kissed her.

"What did you do yesterday, mummy?"

Jane faked a smile. "I had to study and read lots of boring books," she felt Sherlock's eyes on her, deducing her and Jane felt the need to leave the place as soon as possible. "Have you packed your things?" Both boys shook their heads. "Okay, go now and hurry up. Matthew's waiting downstairs. "And I'll cook you something special tonight."

Hamish's eyes lit up. "What is it?"

"It won't be special if I tell you, will it?" Jane smiled. "Come on, go and pack your things."

Sherlock, who so far had witnessed the scene before him in silence, felt his own blood boil inside him when he spotted a love bite on Jane's neck. She had tried to cover it with her hair, but he saw it.

And suddenly Sherlock felt angry.

But he said nothing.

Jane stood close to the door and looked at her surroundings in silence, trying to avoid Sherlock's eyes on her. Jane noticed how empty the place was. She remembered the pictures on the walls, on the mantelpiece, her and Sherlock's books on the bookshelves, her notebooks on the desk in the living room... now everything was half empty.

Baker Street used to their home. But now it was only Sherlock's.

And Jane longed for those days.

"They behaved, if that's what you're wondering," Sherlock said breaking the silence between them. "And I got them clothes, toys and their own pyjamas and cups."

Jane frowned. "You didn't need to -"

"I've researched it. It is better if they had their own things while they stay with me."

"Okay."

Once the kids were ready, Jane patted their backs and told them to say bye to their father.

"G'bye, dad," Hamish. "I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you too. I love you."

Locky kissed Sherlock's cheek but said nothing.

"Good bye, Locky. I love you."

Jane showed no emotion whatsoever. "Good bye."

Sherlock said nothing. He only watched them leaving and a few minutes later getting into Doctor Morstan's car.

The detective couldn't wait until next Friday to see his children again.


	24. Dark

_"You don't know who you're dealing with. You stole my family and I'm going to do everything I can to get them back. Even if it means I have to kill you," Sherlock said darkly._

 

* * *

"Are you okay?"

Jane smiled to the man she loved as if he was her father and poured more tea into his cup. "I'm fine. How are things with Pat?"

"She's fine," Greg eyes dropped on the cup. "Well, that's what she said last time I saw her."

"You broke up?"

Greg merely nodded, and then cleared his throat. "She left me. Said I had to choose between her and my job."

"I'm not going to ask you what you chose."

"Every woman I've met asked me the same."

Jane faked a reassuring smile. "You work far too much, Greg. You need to have some rest, you know. Take a couple of days off."

"I swear every time I think about going somewhere, something happens. It's always either a stupid crime or someone planting a bomb in this damn city," Greg sighed. "Just... let's not talk about my job."

Jane giggled.

"How are you?"

"I'm fine. Just a bit tired, that's all."

Greg narrowed his eyes at her. "Hamish told me the other day about his weekend with Sherlock."

"He said he had fun."

"What are you going to do with Sherlock?"

"Nothing. We decided the children will stay with me from Mondays to Fridays and he'll take them to Baker Street during the weekends."

"Hasn't he...," Greg trailed off, unsure of what to say next. "I don't know, asked you to get back together?"

Jane bit her lip. "He didn't say it... He's angry at me. I know he hates me."

"And what has Matthew said?"

"The other day Sherlock said terrible things to him. But Matthew is..." Jane's eyes danced on the walls behind D.I. Lestrade and she smiled. "He told me I should let the boys spend more time with their father."

Greg snored. "He wasn't angry?"

"No."

"That man is a saint," Greg commented. "Anyone else could've, I dunno, punched Sherlock to death!"

Jane faked a little smile. "I thought he would be angry. God, the last thing I need right now is seeing those two fighting."

Greg's mobile went off. The Detective Inspector of the Scotland Yard picked up the call and soon he found himself pinching the bridge of his nose, pulling out his little notebook and writing down an address.

"I can't even take a break."

Jane watched Greg taking his coat and standing up. "What happened?"

"A kid found dead."

"God."

Greg faked a smile and kissed Jane's forehead. "I'm sorry. I know there was something you wanted to talk about with me. But I gotta go."

"It's okay."

"Next time we'll talk, okay?"

Jane opened the front door and smiled bitterly. "Yes. Be careful. Bye."

Jane returned to his room and checked on Sophie before getting into bed. Hamish was at a friend's and Locky was calmly napping. She was relieved, she still have an hour or so before Locky would wake up. She felt so tired and sick. She didn't know if she would be able to go on like this. Since Sherlock had appeared in her life again, she hadn't been feeling well.

Some time ago Jane was desperate to start her residencies, but her poor health didn't allow her to. Matthew told her there was no rush at all, that she should stay at home and have some rest. He had even promised her a weekend abroad just the two of them. Jane needed to go away, forget for a moment all the things she was going through and spend some time alone with the man who she knew was going to be her husband soon. But she knew this was going to be impossible because Sherlock would not allow her to.

But Jane was not only worried about Sherlock, but about herself as well. She had always been told things happen for a reason. That nothing, but _nothing_ , happens just because. There's a reason for everything. So Jane was sure Sophie had appeared in their lives for a reason, to gave her and Matthew the baby they wanted. Sherlock had appeared in their lives for a reason, to be with their children and be a father to them.

However, Jane looked herself at the mirror and wondered why _this_ was happening. If _this_ had a reason to happen, to be.

Because she didn't know what to do. And the clock was ticking.

* * *

 

Matthew's blue eyes danced on the flowers in the shop. He knew Jane loved white roses and there were lovely flower bouquets but he couldn't decide which one he should buy.

Doctor Matthew Morstan considered he had the life of his dreams: He had the best job in the world - he fixed and cured little children. The doctor lived with three lovely kids he considered were like his own. Hamish and Locky had been two of the best things that could have ever happened to him. Matthew loved them as if they were his own children and he looked after them, loved them and was always there when they needed him, when Hamish couldn't sleep or had complicated homework to do or when Locky couldn't sleep or wanted to be held like a little baby.

Matthew also had a lovely baby girl he loved with all his heart. Sophia had truly made him and Jane happier than ever. The doctor loved those moments they usually had alone at night, when Jane fed Sophie and held her in her arms while Matthew looked at them, wishing Sophie could be their daughter. But indeed Sophie was. Everyone told them she looked a lot like them, that Sophie had Jane's eyes and that somehow, she was a mix of the two of them. Some people took for granted they were the parents of that baby that had been found left to die in a bin, just a few months ago. The doctor wished their could have their own children, have babies, conceive a baby with the woman she loved and have their own family.

The doctor was worried about Jane. She had been very quiet for the past days, she wasn't eating properly, she suffered from headaches and she would sleep for long hours. As soon as Jane rested her head on the pillow, she closed her eyes and she fell asleep. Usually both would wake up together, Jane liked to prepare breakfast for him and the children, help him with his tie, walk with him to the front door and give him a kiss before he left to work. But now Jane was very tired in the morning and now Matthew was in charge of the breakfast, he had to make himself sure Hamish had brushed his teeth and was ready to go to school. He knew Jane needed to have some rest. But the doctor was worried.

At the end, the dark haired doctor picked a nice flower bouquet of white roses and a box of chocolates. The doctor was walking down the road, happily smiling, looking now and then at the ring in his finger, thinking that everything was going to be okay.

_"I can't wait to make you my wife," the doctor whispered softly against her ear and moved his hand to her flat stomach. "I love you."_

_Jane only smiled._

_"And for us to have a baby."_

_"We already got Sophie."_

_Matthew kissed her neck. "I can't wait to see your belly growing and growing. To see you carrying our child, the result of our love."_

Matthew woke up from his dreams when walking to his car, he spotted several police cars blocking the street, people standing around, trying to take a look at the place closed by the police and D.I. Greg Lestrade talking on the phone and commanding his team of police officers, forensics and so on.

"Hey, Greg."

The D.I. turned and smiled. "Hey, Matt. Going home?"

"Yes."

"And I see you got my daughter something nice," Greg said pointing at the flowers and the box of chocolate. "Good."

Matthew blushed a bit. "It's nothing."

"What's going on, Matt?"

"Why you ask?" Matthew asked worriedly.

Greg gestured Matthew to walk with him. "I've seen Jane today. She looks bad. Is she ill?"

"She says she's tired. I think it's the stress... raising two boys and one little baby is not easy."

"Hell, I'm sure it isn't!"

Matthew nodded. "We're going to Italy soon - just don't tell her, it's a surprise."

"When it's the wedding?"

"I don't know. We haven't discussed that yet," the doctor sighed. "With Sophie, the children, my work and well, you know, Sherlock... "

Greg nodded. "Jane told me what he did. Really, Matt, how d'you do it?"

"Do what?"

Greg glared at him as if what he had asked was obvious.

"No, seriously, I don't know what you're talking about."

"Jane didn't tell me exactly what Sherlock said, but he's a pain in the arse. How did you manage not to punch him?"

Matthew shrugged. "Jane said he didn't mean it and I believe her. He's angry at me and I understand that," the doctor looked down at the flowers in his hand. "I know he wants her back."

Greg shook his head. He knew things were not going to be easy, and damn, he wished he could change that. He couldn't bear seeing Jane hurt like he knew she was. Greg loved Jane as if she was the daughter he didn't have. He wanted the best for her and Greg knew the best for her was Matthew. The doctor had given her stability, love, he cared.

"Um, would you do me a favour?" Greg asked glancing at his watch. "Would you take a look at the body?"

Matthew raised an eyebrow. "You know I'm not good at determining the cause of death."

"Yeah but, err, we've been here for a while and I sort of need a second opinion."

Greg opened the door of his car so Matthew would put the flowers bouquet and the chocolates inside. Then, he handed him a pair of gloves and showed him the crime scene.

They were at a abandoned house. As soon as they got in, Matthew noticed the place was dirty, and he knew no one must have been living there for a long time, but when Greg showed him the room where the body was, the doctor caught his breath. In the middle of a room was a little child of six or seven years old. He had fair, wavy hair and pale skin. The little boy's eyes were open, they were blue. He was wearing a pair of blue jeans, red socks and a white t-shirt which was now entirely red, red stained with his own blood.

Matthew couldn't help but think that little child looked a lot like Hamish.

"God. Who did this?"

"That's what we're trying to find out," Greg patted his back softly. "Just tell me what you see."

Matthew knelt on the floor, next to the little boy's head and stared at his empty, lifeless blue eyes.

* * *

Damn traffic.

Sherlock was just two streets from the crime scene and the cab hadn't moved in more than ten minutes.

"Could you go faster?"

"The police's closed the street, mate," the cabbie answered.

Sherlock got out of the cab and handed the driver a few pounds and decide it was better walking than waiting to get there in a taxi. The detective was happy, creepily happy for the promise of a crime scene and getting back to work.

Greg's text was a surprise. He had seen him a few times before and Greg seemed to be, somehow, sorry for what he had done, for letting Anderson and Donovan plan that idea of him being the kidnapper of those children and a fake detective. Greg had only said he was sorry, but quickly after that, that he was glad he was alive, that he wasn't a fake and that he had finished with James Moriarty and his string of criminals.

Sherlock decided not to say anything. However, he had assured Greg he could call him if he needed hep, or to solve a crime and prove his stupid team he was clever, and not a fake as they thought he was.

The detective ignored the policemen and women around him and got into the house and went to the room upstairs were he knew the body was.

"I told you not to let Anderson -"

Sherlock froze when he found Matthew examining the body.

* * *

"Apart from the cut on his neck..." Matthew swallowed hard and focused on the boy's neck and the marks on his arms and on his back. "He's been hit. Some bruises are old. Some others are new."

Greg shook his head.

"What did the Forensic in charge said?"

"Anderson?" Greg asked. "Didn't mention the bruises."

Matthew turned to the dead boy on the floor and focused on the bruises on his arms and chest when both, he and Greg, heard a pair of feet approaching the room.

"I told you not to let Anderson -"

Sherlock froze when he found Matthew examining the body.

The same happened to the doctor. He froze on the floor and two seconds later, Sherlock was walking into the room.

"What is he doing here?" Sherlock demanded to Greg.

Greg put his hands on the air. "Sherlock -"

"What is he doing here?" Sherlock insisted and turned to Matthew. "What are you doing here?"

Matthew got to his feet and removed the gloves he was wearing. "I'd better go -"

"Yes, do so. You've nothing to do here."

The doctor's eyes were on Sherlock's. Both were looking at each other when Greg stepped between them. "Sherlock, shut up."

"Don't tell me to shut up," Sherlock hissed angrily and then turned to Matthew and glared at him with his icy eyes.

Matthew looked at Greg. "Good luck with the case, Greg."

Greg stopped him. "No, you're staying, we need to talk," the detective inspector turned to Sherlock. "You take a look at the body."

Sherlock didn't move.

"Sherlock?"

"I will do it if he leaves."

Greg frowned. "What?"

"I won't repeat myself."

Matthew knew he had to go before things got worse. "Greg -"

"This is childish!" Greg said angrily, losing his patience.

"Childish?" Sherlock repeated, but focused on Doctor Morstan. "I have to see him playing the loving husband with my wife and the good father with my children. I won't let him steal my job."

Matthew froze. "Sherlock -"

"STOP RIGHT NOW!" Greg shouted. "For God's sake Sherlock! He won't go anywhere. Take a look at the body right now."

Sherlock's eyes dropped on Greg and took the gloves off his hands sharply. "Fine," he knelt next to the body and examined the cut on the little boy's neck. "Lost a considerable amount of blood. The bruises on his arms and the evidence under his nails reveal he fought his attacker," Sherlock said and looked at the cut on his neck. "The killer was neat," he chuckled. "He didn't kill him by just cutting his neck," Sherlock turned to Greg with a small smile on his face. "He hit him before. He was already dead when he cut his neck."

Greg only assented and took down his notes.

"You should show more respect."

Sherlock turned to Matthew. "Pardon?"

"There's a boy lying dead there. His parents must be devastated and you're smiling," Matthew said firmly.

"Problem?"

Matthew nodded. "Yes. Would you smile if the body you were examining was Hamish's?"

That was the moment when Sherlock felt his own blood boiling inside him. He curled his hands into fists and he got to his feet so quickly that Greg feared they would start fighting.

"Who do you think you are to tell me what should I and what I should not do?" Sherlock asked getting dangerously close to the doctor. "You are no one."

"You should show more respect."

"Oh, are we going to tell each other what we _should_ do?," Sherlock asked sarcastically. "You should stop pretending. You don't want me near Jane nor my children. You hate me. You wish I was _dead,_ " the detective smiled when he deduced what he knew was going to truly hurt Matthew. "And you should tell Jane about your medical condition, about the psychiatrist you've been seeing because you can't get over your dead wife and children. And about the antidepressants you had been advised to take but you don't want to."

Greg stepped between them. "That's enough Sherlock."

"You're so full of hatred," Matthew said softly and swallowed his own tears.

"You don't know who you're dealing with. You stole my family and I'm going to do everything I can to get them back. Even if it means I have to kill you," Sherlock said darkly.

"I know who I'm dealing with," The doctor looked at Sherlock. "I'm dealing with the man who hurt Jane not once but several times and who hurt her so much that now Hamish suffers the consequences. All because of you."

Sherlock froze.

He wasn't expecting that.

"How dare you. You have no right -"

"And you had no right to talk about my dead wife and my children," Matthew said firmly. "I'm not like you. I don't hate you. I just wanted you to be close to Hamish and Locky because they need you," Matthew looked down at the ring in his finger. "I've got nothing against you seeing them," Matthew got dangerously close to Sherlock. "and Jane. You're the children's parents after all. But know this, _Sherlock Holmes_ ," their faces were inches apart. "If I ever see Jane hurt, crying because of you, you'll regret it."

* * *

 

"Matt, what's wrong?"

The doctor shook his head dismissively and kissed Jane's forehead. "It's nothing, love. How are you feeling?"

"Better," Jane snuggled up to him.

Sherlock's words were still in Matthew's mind when he found himself lying on his bed next to Jane that same night after facing the consulting detective and listening to those hurtful words that felt like knives stabbing his heart. The doctor needed to tell Jane how sad, depressed he was, how much he needed her because he missed his dead wife and his children. Since Sophie had joined their family Matthew couldn't stop thinking she could have been the baby he and his wife Anna were going to have. And raising, spending time and playing with Hamish and Locky only reminded him of Oliver and Josephine.

Matthew wanted to help Jane to overcome this, Sherlock's return, have a family with him and somehow, try to find a way to make things work.

Matthew looked at her with his tender eyes. "We'll go to the doctor's tomorrow."

"I'm fine."

The doctor frowned. "Why you don't want to go to the doctor? What's wrong, love?"

"I'm fine. I promise you I'm fine," Jane whispered. "I just don't want you to be worried."

"How can I not be worried?"

Jane closed her eyes. "I'm fine," she insisted and moved her hand over his strong stomach and kissed the doctor's bare chest. "Thanks for the flowers and the chocolates."

"I'm glad you liked them."

Sophie started crying and Matthew was the first to leave the bed, walk to the cot and took the crying baby up in his arms. "Bad dream, baby?"

The baby girl snuggled against the doctor's chest, but she wouldn't stop crying.

"Want mummy?"

He returned to bed next to Jane. She sat on the bed and took Sophie in her arms.

As soon as Sophie was in Jane's arms and against her chest, she stopped crying.

"What's wrong, my baby?" Jane asked softly.

Matthew kissed Jane's cheek softly and placed an arm around her thin shoulders.

"I love her so much," she said, pressing a kiss to the baby girl she loved as if she was her daughter. "D'you think she loves us?"

"Of course. She's our daughter, isn't she?"

"Yes, she is," Jane said, eyes focused on Sophie. "She's our daughter."

* * *

Sherlock stared at the pictures Mycroft had given him. Pictures of Doctor Morstan at Bart's, of him getting into his car, of him on the shops, of him with Jane walking around London. There were also pictures of them together in which he was pushing the pushchair with Sophia inside and both with their arms linked.

The detective didn't need to ask for the CCTV footage Mycroft had access to to know Doctor Morstan indeed had a secret.

Doctor Morstan had a psychiatrist and he had been prescribed antidepressants.

And Jane didn't know it.

Sherlock wanted to know why Jane was someone else's now. Why she was choosing Matthew to start a family, to have babies and not him. He had fought for her and their children. He had done the impossible. He almost got himself killed for them. The only thing Sherlock wanted when he returned was his family - Jane and the children.

But now Sherlock was alone. He had to see his Jane kissing, loving and living with someone else, with another man who loved her and with whom Jane was going to adopt a baby and have more soon.


	25. Hurt

 

_"Why, dad? Why me?" Hamish asked innocently. "Is it because mummy was ill when I was born? Mummy told me she was ill when I was a very little baby inside her tummy."_

_"What else did she tell you?"_

_"That I was born early cos she was ill and that I was sooooo little that that's why I can't hear well too," Hamish explained innocently. "Mummy said it was her fault cos she couldn't protect me when I was inside her tummy," Hamish smiled and Sherlock, and anyone, could have seen the sadness behind his eyes, inside him. "But I love mummy and I know it wasn't her fault that I'm a retarded and deaf too."_

_Sherlock felt like dying. He felt so guilty, so guilty because he knew that what he did to Jane years ago did not only affect her but Hamish as well. Hamish was suffering the consequences and Sherlock knew it._

* * *

"Daddy?" Locky asked innocently and pointed at the front door.

Hamish patted his little brother's dark curly head. "Dad will come soon," the six year old turned to the telly. "Look, Locky! It's The Doctor!"

Both children were sitting together in the living room, watching their Doctor Who DVD's and waiting for their daddy to pick them up when Sophie woke up after hearing the boys' voices.

"Boys, remember Sophie's sleeping!"

Jane was in the kitchen reading the papers Matthew left before going to Dublin to a medical conference. Their solicitor had already prepared Sophie's adoption papers when Jane's situation arose: she was still married to Sherlock. When Matthew suggested getting married, and knowing which was Jane's situation, their solicitor reminded that, to the laws of the country, she was still married to Sherlock and therefore, she still was Jane Watson Holmes.

Matthew insisted he wanted to adopt Sophie _with_ Jane. The doctor didn't want to be he the one adopting Sophie _alone_. The doctor didn't want Jane to be the one adopting Sophie. Matthew Morstan wanted to get married and then adopt Sophia _together_.

And Jane was at a crossroads: she wanted Sophie, but she didn't want to get married. She was fine with her current situation, with Matthew and her being boyfriends, parters living together. She didn't want to be living with Matthew when she was still married to Sherlock. Jane wanted to divorce Sherlock and start a new life.

Even when it hurt her.

When years ago she conceived of a life with Sherlock, having babies, raising their children, then seeing their sons growing up and then growing old with him... Jane always wanted to have a life with Sherlock. Because she loved him. But Sherlock 'died', he disappeared from her life and then all those dreams Jane had within her vanished in the air. When Sherlock 'died', he took Jane's heart, her dreams, her hopes, her love. Suddenly Jane was empty. So when Matthew appeared, Jane felt happy again. She felt human again. She felt she could love again.

Jane believed she couldn't love Sherlock again. The Sherlock that had come back after three years was not the same Sherlock she had loved.

It was better to finish this.

When the door bell rang and the boys ran to the door, Jane didn't know what to do, how she would tell Sherlock she wanted the divorce.

Jane waited a few minutes in the kitchen. She placed the papers into a big envelope and left it on the kitchen table.

She was not ready to say it yet.

Sherlock didn't look at her and continued helping Locky with his little coat when Jane stepped into the living room. Sherlock said nothing. His long, pale fingers were tangled and struggling with Locky's little coat buttons while Hamish had already put his own coat on and was asking his daddy to hurry up because he wanted to go to Baker Street and see Nan Hudson.

"Hello."

The detective didn't say it back and Jane was, somehow, not surprised at all. Not surprised to hear only silence as an answer.

"Thanks for coming earlier."

Sherlock said nothing.

Jane had called him and asked him if he could pick them up earlier. She never mentioned it was because she wanted to talk to him, because she needed to give him the papers to sign and fill in to start the divorce process. Sherlock agreed to pick the boys earlier anyway.

Sophie started to whimper in her cot and Jane went over and picked her up in her arms. She noticed Sherlock's eyes on her, but Jane didn't care any more. She used to feel uncomfortable while feeling his eyes on her, scanning her body, looking for clues to deduce what he didn't want to ask.

Jane tried to make Sophie stop crying, but apparently she was hungry and she was crying asking for a bottle.

"Hamish, can you go and get me Sophie's bottle please? It's in the kitchen."

"Yes, mummy."

Jane turned to Sherlock, to hand him the little bag with the children's toys when Sophie's towel fell to the floor. Strangely, Sherlock didn't move and Jane bit her lip. She knelt down just a bit, shifting Sophie in her arms and picked up the towel.

Sherlock noticed Jane bite back a yelp when she bent down to pick up the baby's towel off the floor. Hamish was back just a few seconds later with a bottle.

"Are you ready?"

Both children nodded eagerly.

"I'm sorry, I forgot to pack their cups -"

"I've told you I got them everything for when they stay with me," Sherlock said sharply.

Jane took the keys from walked to the front door, swallowing her tears and still holding Sophie in her arms, trying to make her stop crying. "Remember to check Hamish's temperature -"

"I know."

Jane said nothing else.

"Good bye, mummy," Hamish said, kissing Jane's cheek.

Locky kissed his mummy too. "Bye mummy."

"Good bye. Be good boys this weekend, okay?"

"'K," Hamish waved his hand in farewell. "Get better, mummy."

Sherlock said nothing. He took his children's hands and got them into a cab.

* * *

 

It was a cold afternoon, so instead of taking them to the park, Sherlock took the boys straight to Baker Street. Sherlock looked at Hamish's large collection of DVD's: there were some superhero and Disney films and he even recognised Jane's old Doctor Who DVD's too. The detective immediately knew it was going to be a weekend of watching films.

And it eventually happened.

Apparently both children's favourite film was Thor and their favourite character was a blond man very fond of his hammer and who apparently wanted to be a King. Sherlock already knew the lines by heart, they had seen the film he previous weekend, but he enjoyed sitting on the sofa for two hours with both of his children curled next to him.

For tea, Mrs Hudson helped him preparing the boy's milk and baking sponge cake. While Sherlock was bottle feeding Locky, Mrs Hudson told Hamish stories of when he was very little. In most of them the landlady told Hamish about the time he said his first word during his first birthday party or when he started teething.

"How's your mummy, Hamish? It's been days since I last saw her," Mrs Hudson said casually while sitting next to the boys on the sofa.

"Mummy's sick."

"Oh. Is she okay?"

Hamish shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. She doesn't play with us and she stays in bed all the time."

"Did she go to the doctor?" Mrs Hudson asked worriedly.

"Yep."

From his chair, Sherlock heard the whole conversation but remained silent.

"Is she okay now?"

Hamish hesitated. "I think so. Matt used his special thing to listen to mummy's heart before leaving and he said she was fine."

The detective remembered how pale Jane looked when he went to her house to pick up his children. She had dark bags under her eyes and her usually pink lips were white. She was wearing a baggy jumper that only made her look very thin and it was obvious she had lost weight and that she was clearly in pain.

"Dad?"

"Hmm?"

Hamish shifted on his spot on the sofa. "Can I call mummy, please?"

"Why? You have just seen her."

"Yeah," Hamish hesitated for a moment. "But I wanna talk to her. Please?"

Sherlock didn't hesitate. He was aware of how close both of their children were to Jane. Neither Hamish nor Locky never called him during the week, and Sherlock knew it was because he was still a stranger to them and because they were still bonding, that they needed more time to be as close as they were with Jane. Besides, Sherlock knew Jane would never forbid their children from calling him or seeing him. So the detective dialled Jane's number and handed Hamish the phone.

"Mummy?... yes, I'm fine... are you okay, mummy?... You sure?... okay... I love you too, mummy... bye." Hamish handed Sherlock the phone back. "Mummy says she wants to talk to you."

Sherlock went to his room and closed the door before pressing the phone to his ear.

"Yes?"

_"Sherlock? I've just wanted to tell you that I'll pick them up on Sunday but a bit earlier."_

The detective sat on his bed. "Why?"

_"We need to talk."_

"There's nothing I have to discuss with you."

_"But I do."_

Sherlock ran a hand over his curls. "Fine."

When Sherlock returned to the living room, he found Locky playing with his toys on the floor and Hamish sitting on the sofa, his legs glued to his chest, trying to hide his face from anyone.

The detective sat next to his eldest son and focused on the mop of fair wavy hair that Sherlock remembered used to be wild curls like his, but golden. But now Hamish looked more and more like Jane.

"You want to go with her," Sherlock stated.

"Mummy said she was better," Hamish said, with little tears in his eyes.

Sherlock frowned. "Why are you crying?"

"I don't wanna mummy to die."

The detective didn't know why seeing his eldest son crying, thinking Jane could die, broke his heart. Sherlock held Hamish in his arms and kissed his tears. "Don't cry," Sherlock said softly. "She will not die."

"How d'you know?"

"Jane is very strong. You don't remember this because you were very little, but when Jane was pregnant and expecting Locky, she was ill," Sherlock said, remembering that moment when Jane collapsed and she almost lost Locky. "And she almost lost your brother."

Hamish's eyes widened. "Really?"

Sherlock nodded. "Yes. But she was so strong that nothing happened to your brother."

"So... mummy's not gonna die, right?"

"No," Sherlock's eyes fell on Locky who was happily playing with his toys. "Jane is very strong. I know she is."

 

The following morning Sherlock woke up feeling his youngest son's little hands patting his back, trying to wake him up to prepare breakfast. Sherlock of course got up and prepared Locky his bottle, Hamish's his milk and he drank some tea.

As the day was sunny and not as cold as it had been the previous day, Sherlock decided to take the boys to the park.

"Dad? Can we play with those boys?" Hamish asked pointing to a group of little boys kicking a ball. "Please?"

"Okay, but stay close were I can see you."

Sherlock sat on one bench at the park and pulled out his phone and started typing texts. He had got a few domestic cases and Lestrade had called him early to ask him if he could go to the Yard on Monday. Little by little Sherlock was going back to his life and going back to work too. As he had been rectified as a true genius and not a 'fake', Sherlock had got several calls from people all around the country requesting his services. Sherlock rejected lots and accepted a few, just the ones that really caught his attention and that would allow him to keep a low profile and stay away from the spot light.

"Hello."

Sherlock raised his gaze and looked at the woman standing in front of him.

It was Molly Hopper.

"Molly."

"Is this seat taken?" Molly asked, pointing at the empty place next to Sherlock.

Sherlock shook his head. "Obviously not."

Molly sat next to him, awkwardly, and soon her eyes fell on the boys playing a few metres away from them. "Good day to bring the kids, uh?"

"Hmm."

A long silence fell upon them. Molly's eyes were on the boys she knew were Sherlock's children, happily kicking a ball with another three kids a few metres away from them. Molly couldn't help but feel amazed by how alike Sherlock's little son was to his daddy. That little boy who could hardly run after a ball had dark, very dark and curly hair, pale skin, pink full lips and the strangest eyes she had ever seen. However, the eldest boy Molly knew was called Hamish, looked a lot like Jane. He had fair, wavy hair and blue eyes. His skin was slightly tanned, not so pale like the little brother and he was little too be a six year old boy while Sherlock's youngest son was taller to be a two year old.

"Do you know him?" Sherlock asked after a long moment of silence, his eyes focused on his children.

"Who?"

"Jane's new partner."

Molly nodded softly. "Doctor Morstan? Yes. Well... I've just heard his name a couple of times -"

"She introduced him to you," Sherlock said, cutting Molly off.

"Yeah. I ran into them once and she introduced us," Molly said remembering seeing Jane holding Doctor Morstan's hand. "He's nice."

Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Sherlock."

"You told me so, remember?," Sherlock said, bitterly. "You said she would never forgive me."

Molly said nothing, but she remembered telling Sherlock he had to find another way to save Jane and his children. That it was going to be too much for Jane to handle; she was pregnant and very close to give birth to their child. Molly warned Sherlock Jane was going to be not only devastated but sad and angry as well. But Molly never thought Jane would find a new love, someone else who was not Sherlock Holmes.

"I saw her early this morning," Molly almost whispered. "She looked sad."

Sherlock frowned. "At Bart's?"

Molly nodded. "In one of the hospital corridors."

"Hamish said she was ill."

The fair haired woman got to her feet. "I'd better be going. Good bye, Sherlock."

"Thank you."

"What for?"

"For keeping my secret," Sherlock said softly, with his eyes on his children. "For helping me to save my family."

Molly smiled fondly at the detective. "I'm very happy you are back to your children, Sherlock."

Sherlock said nothing and watched Molly walking away.

* * *

"And now what?"

Sherlock sat Hamish on his lap and showed him the microscope. "See that? Those are blood cells."

"Whoa!"

The detective smiled.

"You're so so so clever! I wanna be clever like you when I grow up!"

Sherlock's eyes focused on Locky, who preferred to play with his own toys in the living room and then he kissed his son's fair hair. "You are already very clever."

Hamish rested his head on Sherlock's chest. "I'm not. I'm a retarded and deaf too."

Sherlock frowned and looked down at his son. "Why you say that?"

"Cos it's the truth, dad."

"Who told you so?"

"No one. But I know I am. The teacher exlains things twice or three times because of me," Hamish said casually. "All my friends can read pretty fast and they know lots of numbers and I don't." Hamish smiled to his daddy, as if everything he had just said was normal. "Marty says I don't look like a retarded. And mummy and Matt say I'm clever but I know I'm not."

"You're not a _'retarded'_."

Hamish's eyes showed the sadness he had inside. "Mummy says it's a lot not good to tell lies, daddy."

"Has your mother ever called you 'retarded'?"

"No. She says I'm not but I know she only says that cos she loves me," Hamish said softly.

Sherlock kissed Hamish's pink cheek. "I love you too. But we're not telling you a lie. It's the truth," the detective held his son's little hands. "You're not a retarded."

"Then why I can't be like Marty or Julie? Or Nicki or Ben? They know lots and they are very clever!"

"Because it takes time," Sherlock explained. "Some individuals can acquire knowledge more faster than others."

Hamish frowned. "What?"

"Some people learn things faster than others."

"Oh," the little boys seemed to consider this for a moment. "Mummy said somethin' like that. She said she could ride a bike when she was ten years old!"

Sherlock looked away. "You are not different from the others. You are special."

"Why?"

"Because you are my son."

"But why, dad? Why _me_?" Hamish asked innocently. "Is it because mummy was ill when I was born?"

Sherlock froze.

"Mummy told me she was ill when I was a very little baby inside her tummy."

"What else did she tell you?"

"That I was born early cause she was ill and that I was _sooooo_ little that that's why I can't hear well too," Hamish explained innocently. "Mummy said it was her fault cos she couldn't protect me when I was inside her tummy," Hamish smiled and Sherlock, and anyone, could have seen the sadness behind his eyes, inside him. "But I love mummy and I know it wasn't her fault that I'm a retarded and deaf too."

Sherlock felt like dying. He felt so guilty, so guilty because he knew that what he did to Jane years ago did not only affect her but Hamish as well. Hamish was suffering the consequences and Sherlock knew it.

Now that Sherlock was sitting with his six year old son, now that he was seeing how he struggled with learning new things, how he pressed his hand to his hearing aid... that was the moment when Sherlock realised that that night he did not only hurt Jane but her own son as well.

Hamish was the one suffering the consequences. And everything because of his addition.

Jane got better, she healed. Both healed.

But Hamish would always suffer the consequences.

Always.

"It wasn't your mother's fault. She did the impossible to protect you, I know it," Sherlock said, caressing his son's fair hair. "There are things I can't tell you now. Things I'm not proud of. Things that I wish I hadn't done," the detective said with little tears in his eyes. "I'm sorry, Hamish. I'm so sorry."

Hamish hugged his daddy. "Are you sad, daddy?"

Sherlock nodded.

"Why?"

"Because of things I did and I wish I hadn't."

"Matt says that when we're sad we have to think in the people we love," Hamish said softly. "Sometimes when he's sad cos he remembers his children he says he thinks in mummy and in Locky and in me and in Sophie and the sadness goes away!"

Sherlock faked a smile. "I'll think in you and in Locky then."

"Dad?"

"Hmm?"

Hamish buried his face into the detective's chest. "I love you. I'm glad you're alive. Cos now I can be with you. An' I don't have to tell Locky stories 'baut you any more."

"I love you too, Hamish. With all my heart."

* * *

 

Locky and Hamish were crazy after watching Iron Man 3. Sherlock still couldn't understand why children found that character so 'amazing'. But he managed to see the whole film sitting between his children when the whole room was full of children of all sorts of ages, from little children like Locky to teenagers and even adults!

"Dad?"

"Hmm?"

Hamish held Sherlock's hand tightly whilst the detective was carrying Locky in his arms and hailing a cab all at the same time. "You're very clever like Tony Stark. Can you build a magic suit like his?"

"No. That's surreal, science fiction, Hamish. Made for a film."

Once they were back to Baker Street, Sherlock helped the boys to pack their toys and their DVD's. Well, he helped Hamish to pack everything because Locky refused to help and sat on one of the armchairs. This made Sherlock see how his children were: Hamish liked to cooperate, talk lots and he was a very lively child while Locky preferred to play with his toys and leave them there on the floor, he never liked to talk, or at least that's what Sherlock had seen and he was very quiet.

When the doorbell rang and Mrs Hudson opened the front door, the boys were already waiting for her in the living room, sitting together on the sofa while Sherlock stood close by the fireplace.

"Hello mummy!" Hamish ran to Jane and hugged her tightly. "I missed you! Are you better?"

"Hello big poppet. Yes, I'm better, thank you. I missed you too, you know," Jane smiled at him and hugged Locky. "Did you have fun?"

"Yes! We went to the park and Nan baked a chocolate cake and we went to the cinema and we watched Iron Man 3!"

Jane smiled. "Was it good? You think I should go and watch it?"

"Yes! Can we go again, mummy?"

"We'll see... why don't you go downstairs and stay with your Nan for a bit? Sophie is downstairs too and she missed you."

The boys didn't argue and went downstairs as Jane had told them to.

Sherlock's eyes scanned Jane from head to toes, trying to deduce, trying to find out what she wanted to discuss with him. Jane was wearing a pair of blue jeans, flat shoes and baggy jumper. There was a pink blush on her cheeks and she looked better than she did two days ago.

Jane's eyes were on Sherlock.

"Well?" The detective said and sat on his chair. "You said there was something you wanted to talk about."

"May I?"

Sherlock nodded.

Jane sat on what used to be her old chair and opened her handbag. She placed a brownish envelope over her lap before handing it to Sherlock. "I need you to sign these," Jane looked how Sherlock opened the envelope and faced the papers.

She bit her lip in anticipation.

* * *

Sherlock's eyes focused on the first paper.

It was a divorce file.

Jane was asking him to sign a divorce petition.

_Jane wanted the divorce._

The detective felt his heart pounding hard inside his chest. He showed no emotion whatsoever, but Sherlock was dying inside. He looked at the papers one by one and all of them were correct. Jane was stating they had lived apart for more than two years as the main cause of the divorce. The papers about his name, his address... everything was correct. There were several papers that included Hamish's school fee, about both boys' maintenance and there were forms to fill in about the childcare and with whom the boys were going to live with.

No.

"I've only included Hamish's school and Locky will start nursery soon," Jane said, nervously. "I'm not asking you for more money than for their education," Sherlock's eyes were on hers. "I know that the country house has been given to both of us when we got married, so I'm willing to resign to my rights over that property and over all those that belong to you."

"You've been advised."

She nodded. "We didn't sign any agreement when we got married so -"

"You want nothing in the process of diving the assets."

"Exactly. I don't want anything."

Sherlock shifted on his chair. He put the papers back into the envelope and, with a quick movement, he threw them to the fireplace, where they burnt. The edges curled and soon the white paper turned yellowish and then black, until it was nothing but ashes. Jane's eyes were as wide as saucers. She didn't know what to say for a moment. How to react. What to do.

Jane gasped in surprise. "What are you doing?"

"I won't sign them."

"But -"

"I won't. You can beg, cry, do whatever you want. I won't sign them," Sherlock said sharply.

Tears started to fill Jane's eyes. "Why?"

"Because I don't want a divorce," the detective said as a matter-of-fact. "You are my wife and you belong to me. It seems you hit your head and forgot that," Sherlock said angrily, cruelly. "Now that you want to marry him you remember to whom you belong?"

Jane swallowed some tears. "I don't belong to anyone. I'm not an object."

"You're _my_ wife," Sherlock said standing up and practically yelling at her. "You're my wife and you _belong_ to me. I won't give you the divorce so you can marry _him_."

"You don't understand," Jane said. It was almost a whisper compared to Sherlock's shouting. "I don't want to get married. I want to adopt -"

"You don't want that baby. She's your excuse. And you know it. You're so _pathetic_."

Sherlock's words broke Jane's heart. And for a moment, she felt she could collapse at any minute.

Jane got to her feet. "Shut up."

"Do you really think I don't know what you feel?" Sherlock said to her ear. "Or what you think? I know you think of me when you're with him."

"Shut up," Jane insisted.

But Sherlock was far from shutting up. "I know he can't make you feel like I did, or can he?" Sherlock walked a step forward close to her. "You don't love him. You never did. Why are you with him then? Oh, is it because he pleases you?"

"Sherlock, _please_. Shut up."

"You needed someone who would please your needs, didn't you?" Sherlock smiled darkly. "You're using him. Just like you used me to fill in the empty space Sam Sawyer left in your bed. Am I wrong?"

Jane tried to step back, but Sherlock's grabbed her forearm to pull her closer and Jane knew he wasn't going to let go of her, so she looked away so that way she wouldn't face Sherlock and his madness, his cold, cruel eyes. And tears rolled down her face. "Sherlock, _please_ , stop it."

Sherlock looked at her form head to toes and deduced all he needed to know. "All those medical appointments, your 'illness', the pain...," that was the moment when realisation hit Sherlock like a brick. "You had an _abortion_. You killed his child."

Jane remained silent. But the tears were endlessly rolling down her face.

Sherlock leaned close to whisper to her ear. "That's better, isn't it? Because I won't raise his child once you're back to me."

Jane couldn't stop thinking in all the things Sherlock said, because all those words felt like knives stabbing her heart. Almost like bullets going through her chest, taking her life. Jane felt like dying and if she ever considered she could go back to Sherlock, now Jane was sure there was nothing for them.

Now Jane was convinced they will never get back together.

"How can you be so heartless?" Jane whispered, turning so she would see Sherlock in the eye. And their faces were mere inches apart.

When the detective saw the tears in her face, he realised what he had just said, how much damage he had caused and how much he had just hurt the woman he loved with all his heart.

Sherlock let go of her arm . And everything felt like a nightmare. Sherlock needed to know it was a nightmare. It had to be a nightmare, a bad dream. Because suddenly, they were standing in the same place where more than six years ago, he had hurt Jane for the first time. In the most unforgivable way a man can possibly hurt a woman.

"I never used you..." Jane murmured. "I loved you with all my heart," she closed her eyes and endless tears rolled down her face. "Did our love really mean that little to you?"

The detective remained silent. But there were little tears in his eyes.

And that was the moment when, seeing the tears in Jane's eyes and her hand in her flat stomach, that was the moment when Sherlock realised he had made a huge mistake. Probably one of the worst mistakes he had done.

"I didn't have an abortion - I didn't kill my baby. I had a _miscarriage_ ," She closed her eyes and pressed a hand to her flat stomach. "We weren't looking... it was an accident... I didn't want to get pregnant... but I lost it. And you know what?"

Sherlock remained silent. He was speechless.

"I can't have babies, Sherlock," Jane smiled at Sherlock bitterly. "You get off with this. _Hitting_ me wasn't enough, was it?"

People say you don't know what you got until it's gone. Sometimes forgiveness is granted to us easily. Sometimes we don't think in our actions, and we are forgiven. Sometimes we make the same mistake over and over and in the same way we made those mistakes, in that same way the affected by our actions forgive us.

There's a moment in which the person affected by our actions, after forgiving and forgiving, they start to blame themselves.

When Sherlock started taking cocaine and hurting Jane, it started with a shout. Then there was more shouting and shouting until one day the physical abuse started. Jane blamed herself after each shout and until she almost lost her son and died.

Jane always forgave Sherlock because the love they had was stronger than anything else in the world.

But now Jane was done.

And this time Jane knew she couldn't forgive any more.

"Jane..." Sherlock tried to reach out her hand, but Jane walked backwards. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean -"

"You didn't mean to hurt me _again_?" Jane asked sarcastically.

"Jane, I'm sorry," insisted Sherlock. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I love you. Please love, come back to me," he circled her waist with his arms and tried to kiss her, but she moved her head away. "I love you."

"I don't love you any more."

Sherlock froze.

"I'm done, Sherlock. I really wanted us to be... to have a good relationship - for our children. For Locky and Hamish. But I can't do this," Jane looked at the light bruises in her arm. "I don't care what you think or say about me. If you want to go and tell everyone about this, go. I don't care any more."

" _He_ doesn't know - you didn't tell him about the miscarriage," Sherlock whispered. "Why?"

Jane cried again. "It was the size of a pea. We doctors don't even consider it a baby," Jane whispered. "But it was a baby. It was _my_ baby."

He embraced her and pressed a hand to her flat stomach. Both remembered when Jane was pregnant for the first time, expecting Hamish. And then when they were trying for a baby, those long nights when Jane cried after a negative pregnancy test and when she was pregnant again, expecting Locky.

If there had been a wall between them, now there was an entire ocean. And ocean impossible to cross. No matter how hard they tried.

Jane stepped back to get off Sherlock's touch. "Don't touch me!" Jane said hoarsely, still hurt by Sherlock's words. "You once said Sam was a coward for all the things he said, for the things he did. But look at yourself now, you're just like him."

Tears rolled down Sherlock's face. "I'm not like him! I _love_ you!"

Jane picked up her handbag and called her children to come upstairs and say goodbye to their father.

"One last thing: I'm tired of you saying I did nothing while you fought Moriarty's men," Jane said angrily, pointing at Sherlock's chest with her index finger after every word. "You don't know what I had to go through and how hard was to raise two children alone."

The detective said nothing.

"I'll let you see them because I know you care about them. But listen to me, and listen to me carefully," Jane said quietly, yet angrily. "Don't you dare to hurt them," She looked at him straight in the eye. "I swear on _my_ children that if you ever hurt them, I'll kill you. I don't care what you do to me, what you say about me, but just one tear Sherlock... and I'll tear you limb from limb."

"Mum?" Hamish and Locky were in the living room, each with their little bags. "Mummy, are you crying?"

Jane turned to her children. "Yes."

"Are you sad?" Hamish walked towards her and rested his head on Jane's stomach. "Does your tummy hurt, mummy?"

Jane looked away and wiped the tears off her face. "Say good bye to your father."

Jane went downstairs to pick up Sophia. Locky was the first hugging Sherlock. Then, Hamish threw his arms around the detective's neck. "Dad, why's mummy sad?"

Sherlock kissed his son's forehead. "Be a good boy, son. I'll see you next Friday, okay?"

"Okay," Hamish said a bit sad. "Bye, dad."

Sherlock watched Jane and his children getting into a cab and leaving. He just wished he could have some cocaine to forget all the things he had said, all the damage he had caused.

And how much he had hurt Jane, the woman he loved with all his heart.


	26. The Final Game is On

_"The message is for me."_

_"For you?"_

_"There's a pattern: the three victims had all been asphyxiated. There are no clues left, not a single fingerprint to start an investigation and there are no witnesses," Sherlock's eyes dropped on the boy lying dead in front of him. "And the three look like them."_

 

* * *

Sherlock looked closely at the cuts with his little magnifier. They were sharp cuts, clumsily made using a scalpel and most of her lower abdomen has been cut - the attacker removed the uterus off the woman's body.

"He?"

"Yes," Sherlock looked at the dead woman lying on the floor of her tiny flat. "He is an expert."

"Are we looking for a medical man?" Greg suggested.

Sherlock shook his head. "A medical man, or a medical student more likely due to the poor work and the lack of neatness a proper doctor would have."

Lestrade nodded. "What else?"

"The cuts are clumsy, though he knew where to cut - how to use the scalpel. And she didn't die from this," Sherlock knelt down again and focused on the woman's bruises on her neck. "She's been asphyxiated. Where's her uterus?"

"Forensics," Greg pinched the bridge of his nose."She was pregnant."

"How far a long she was?"

"Dunno. Anderson say it was the size of a pea," The Detective Inspector said absent-mindedly. "hardly considered a baby, I was told."

Sherlock showed no emption whatsoever. But he remembered Jane's words. They were still echoing inside him, inside his mind. It hurt him to know Jane had been pregnant and expecting his child, Doctor Morstan's child. And it also hurt Sherlock to know she had lost it and that she wasn't going to have babies any more.

The fact that Jane had carried a child who was not his, who was her new partner's child, it made Sherlock realise that maybe there was not a future for them. Not any more.

"She wasn't in a stable relationship. There," Sherlock pointed at the box of condoms on her bedside table. "condoms, but not pills. Not stable or casual relationships then. But this," this time the Consulting Detective pointed at the lock of the door. "No one picked the lock. She let her killer in. She knew him. She knew she was pregnant and she wanted to keep it. But apparently he didn't."

"Hold your horses, Sherlock. How do you know that?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "She keeps track of her periods," Sherlock pointed at a calendar hanging on the wall, which had some days marked with red crosses and others with a black crosses. "She does casual relationships but she keeps condoms, therefore she was a very careful woman. But she gets pregnant and she knows it. She told him she was pregnant and that she wanted to keep it, but he didn't."

"And how do you know she knew she was pregnant?"

"It's obvious. If she had always kept track of her periods, she would obviously had noticed when she missed one or two if it was the size of a pea."

Greg nodded. "And what makes you think she wanted to keep it?"

"This," Sherlock pointed at the pictures hanging on the walls. "She's got nieces and nephews. From her older sister I'd say. She likes kids. She wouldn't have had an abortion. She wanted to keep it, her casual partner didn't - he prefers to kill her but why? He could have just walked away - let her to have the child alone..."

"If it was a casual relationship, as you said, maybe he was married? Maybe she threatened him to tell the truth to his wife -"

"Have you asked her neighbours if they had seen anyone?"

"Yeah," Greg sighed tiredly. "And nothing. We got nothing. The bastard didn't leave a trace - not even a fingerprint -"

"I wouldn't say so."

"Check yourself."

It was truth. There was not a single hair, not a single footprint, fingerprints, nothing.

"He was wearing special gloves when he asphyxiated," Lestrade said, walking next to Sherlock off the crime scene. "Will send the body to Bart's if you want to do further examination."

Two days later, Greg called Sherlock asking him to take a look at a crime scene a few streets from Jane's house because this time there was a message painted with blood on a wall.

God, it was all covered with animal blood: the floor, the three walls of a basement room had been red painted with animal blood and a little boy of no more than three years was lying dead in the middle of the room.

And there was a message on the wall.

_**THE FINAL GAME IS ON.** _

Sherlock looked at it carefully. The man (yes, he was sure it had been a man) was tall. He was ambidextrous. He had used animal blood.

And the boy lying dead on the floor looked like Locky. He was little. He was wearing a pair of dark jeans and a blue knitted jumper. The boy had pale complexion, pink lips that after hours of being dead were already white. He had a mop of very dark curly hair and next to him had been left a teddy bear.

The same teddy bear Locky had.

Sherlock knelt next to the boy's body and focused on the bruises on the boy's face. He had been asphyxiated, just like the boy he had seen when he saw Doctor Morstan, and just like the woman's corpse he had examined two days later.

"Asphyxiated."

Greg assented. "He was reported missing yesterday morning and found dead today by a couple of homeless kids."

"Witnesses?"

The Detective Inspector shook his head. "Nothing."

"The message is for me."

"For you?"

"There's a pattern: the three victims had all been asphyxiated. There are no clues left, not a single fingerprint to start an investigation and there are no witnesses," Sherlock's eyes dropped on the boy lying dead in front of him. "And the three look like them."

Greg frowned. "Like them?"

"Like Hamish, Locky and Jane."

"No," Greg stepped back and his eyes dropped on the boy lying dead on the floor. "It must be a coincidence -"

"It isn't."

Sherlock bit his lip. He showed no emotion whatsoever, but deep inside he knew who this was. Who was behind this and what this person was looking for by killing a pregnant woman and two children who all looked a lot like Jane, Hamish and Locky.

All those three victims, somehow, had been killed in a particular way. The three of them had been asphyxiated to death, but afterwards, their bodies had been harmed in very particular ways: the first boy had bruises as if he had been hit. The woman had been cut and removed her uterus off her body and she was pregnant. And the third victim had only been asphyxiated.

Every victim showed, somehow, the damage Sherlock had caused to them, to his family.

* * *

"No fingerprints, no footprints, not even a hair. Nothing," Greg said anxiously. "We've got three victims, three families asking us questions and not a single clue to start the investigation," The Detective Inspector sighed. "No one saw anything, no one heard anything."

Sherlock looked at the pictures of the crime scenes lying on the desk in the living room. They had nothing to start with, not a single clue and nothing that could tell them where to start; there were three victims, two children and a pregnant woman whose uterus had been removed off her body. Three victims that were not related at all, and the only thing within Sherlock's mind was how alike they were to them, to the people that had once been his family, to Jane, Hamish and Locky.

And the woman was pregnant.

If Sherlock was right about the person he thought was behind all this... This person had information. Good information. This person knew Jane was pregnant but lost her baby.

This person was dangerous.

"What d'you think?" Greg asked.

Sherlock took his coat and his scarf. "I need to see them."

* * *

The detective rang the bell and waited. But by just seeing the car parked outside the house, Sherlock already had an idea of who was going to open the door.

"Good afternoon," Matthew said politely after opening the door.

He was right then. It was Friday and Jane was nowhere to be seen. She had always been the one who prepared the children and opened the door of the house for him. But Jane was not there and it was not difficult to guess it was because of all the things Sherlock had said. Sherlock knew Jane didn0t want to see him after the things he had said about her, about the mistaken deductions he had made.

Sherlock's grey eyes were on the doctor's. "Good afternoon."

Matthew moved and Sherlock got inside. His steps were firm, confident. The detective walked to the living room where he found Hamish and Locky already waiting for him, watching telly and deciding which books, toys and DVD's they were going to take to Baker Street to spend the weekend with their father.

"Dad!"

Sherlock hugged his children. "Hello Hamish, Locky," he pressed a kiss to each of the boy's foreheads. "Are you ready?"

Both nodded eagerly.

"Wait dad. Matt has to listen to my heart and check my arm," Hamish said softly.

Sherlock looked at the doctor and then at the elements on the small table: a stethoscope and a blood pressure monitor. Matthew sat on the sofa and patted the place right next to him. "It'll be only a minute."

Sherlock said nothing. But he watched his eldest son sitting next to the doctor and smiling while Matthew rubbed the metallic chest-piece against the soft dark fabric of his trousers to warm it before pressing it to Hamish's chest.

"Take deep breaths," Matthew said softly as he pressed the chest-piece of the stethoscope to the boy's chest. "Now I'm going to listen to your lungs. Cough a bit," Hamish coughed and Matthew smiled fondly at him. "Good!"

"Now my arm!"

Matthew nodded. "Your right arm," the doctor said as he helped Hamish with the cuff. "Now we have to count to ten, remember?"

"One... two... three... four... five... six...," Hamish and Matthew said in unison while Matthew pressed the bulb. "seven... eight... nine... ten!" Matthew's eyes were fixated on the pressure gauge. "Good!"

Hamish smiled. "Can I go now?"

"Yes. You're very healthy," The doctor said and kissed the top of Hamish's head.

Watching them so close, so fond of each other, so deep into their own world, Sherlock couldn't help but realise how much Hamish loved that man, how much he loved Doctor Morstan and how much he loved Hamish as well. Looking from afar, Sherlock saw a man and his child. They were Matthew Morstan and Hamish Watson Holmes. They were not father and son. But anyone who didn't knew who they were would say they were father and son. Anyone would have been able to say Hamish was Matthew's son.

 _"Daddy_ coat!" Locky said to Sherlock, bringing him back from his deep thoughts, pointing at the zip of his little coat. "Zip."

Sherlock helped Locky with his coat and then Hamish when Matthew handed him the bag with their toys, books and DVD's. "Are you taking them somewhere this weekend?" The doctor asked friendly towards Sherlock.

It was true friendliness, Sherlock deduced.

"That's not your business."

Matthew blinked once or twice. "I know it isn't, but er, I'd rather Hamish stayed in the flat and had some rest." Sherlock shoot him such a glare that Doctor Morstan didn't need to be asked why. "He's got a mild cold and he had to stay in bed," Matthew said to her girlfriend's _still husband_. "He's fine now, but he needs to have some rest. He can't afford to fall sick."

Sherlock picked up the boy's bag and walked towards the door. Both boys were already waiting at the door and Matthew was walking behind Sherlock.

"If anything happens, take him to Bart's. I'm working this weekend -"

"What makes you think I'll take my son to see you?"

Matthew sighed inwardly. "I'm his doctor."

"And there are plenty in London. And _better_ ones too," Sherlock snapped.

Matthew preferred to ignore that. He stooped and smiled to both boys. "See you soon, boys. I'll miss you."

"We'll miss you too, Matt."

Locky threw his arms around Matthew and kissed his cheek. He hid his head on his shoulder for long seconds. And that hurt Sherlock. It hurt him to see his youngest son being so affectionate to the man he hated, to the man who was the owner of Jane's love and the man who he knew Locky considered more like a father than him.

"Bye bye _dad_."

God.

It felt like a knife stabbing Sherlock's heart.

Matthew kissed the top of Locky's dark curls. "Matt. I'm Matt."

"Matt," Locky repeated mechanically. "Love you."

"I love you too."

Sherlock took the boys hands and got them into a cab.

* * *

 

As soon as Jane closed the door of her house behind her back, she removed her coat and walked towards the kitchen where she found Matthew putting some takeaway on a plate to heat it for dinner.

"Hello, darling," the doctor said softly. "Had a good day?"

She only nodded. "I'll take a quick shower before dinner."

When Jane felt the cascade of hot water hitting her body, she sighed tiredly and closed her eyes, feeling herself clean. She washed her hair and then her body. She stayed for long minutes, letting the hot water run down her body when she rested her back against the cold ceramic tiles of the bathroom. She closed her eyes and let a hand travel on her flat belly. She rubbed the skin there as she used to do when she was pregnant, expecting Hamish and then Locky. She remember herself touching her belly in both occasions, thinking, wondering what she was expecting, if it was a boy or a little girl. She remembered Sherlock rubbing her prominent belly, kissing her skin, tracing patterns with his fingertips, talking to her belly, to their baby, to Hamish and then to Locky.

_"I love you."_

_Jane smiled at him and caressed Sherlock's wild, dark curls. She felt Sherlock lifting her jumper and then her tee to kiss her belly. It was like old times. Sherlock always loved to kiss and touch her belly, he liked to wait for the baby to start kicking. The baby always kicked when Sherlock was around. It was as if it knew its father was close._

_The baby kicked._

_"Knows when his father is close."_

_Sherlock kissed her belly again. "There must be a scientific explanation as to why a baby can feel one of its parental figures close."_

_"Well, Hamish knows when you're close because my heart beats quickly than normal every time you're around."_

_The young detective delicately kissed Jane. "Does your heart beat faster because of me?"_

_Jane nodded. "Of course. Because I love you."_

Jane remembered when she was pregnant, expecting Locky, and how much Sherlock needed to hear, feel their son inside her.

_Sherlock placed a hand on her growing belly. "How is he?"_

_"Calm. Must be sleeping. Hasn't kicked at all."_

_"Have you brought your stethoscope?"_

_"What for?" asked Jane confusedly._

_"It worries me when he doesn't kick," said he. "I need to hear him."_

She had always loved it when Sherlock touched her belly, kissed it, used her stethoscope to feel their baby inside her. He had always said he needed to hear their child moving for them, but mostly for him because every time Sherlock was around, their baby kicked. It happened with Hamish and then with Locky. Every time the detective was around, they would move, kick and basically cause some pain to their mother, but Jane never cared. She was always happy her babies had moved inside her every time Sherlock was around because he was their daddy.

Jane wondered if she had been Sophie's biological mother, if she had got pregnant of Matthew's child, if Sophie would have kicked inside her as much as Hamish and Locky did. If Sophie would have kicked every time Matthew was around because he was her father.

"Jane?" There was a knock at the door. "Love, are you all right?"

She wrapped herself with a towel and opened the door. She faked a smile and felt Matthew's strong arms around her waist, pulling her closer and walking her to their bed. He sat on his side of the bed, with Jane on her lap and wrapped another towel around her bare shoulders and started to rub the towel up and down her wet arms.

Jane buried his face into his neck. She pressed a little kiss to the skin there and remained silent. She had always felt as if she was Matthew's little girl. He had always been so protective over her, almost like a father. Every thing Jane wanted, Matthew would always give it to her. Not as if Jane manipulated him, but if there was a single tear rolling down her face, Jane was sure Matthew would move heaven and earth to make her feel better. And she was so small compared to him; she was short and thin, she had lost weight recently and she wasn't feeling healthy, but Matthew was tall, taller than Sherlock, strong, he liked to go to the gym and he was very athletic. His strong arms were able to carry her everywhere.

"What's wrong, baby?"

Jane looked at him. "You've never called me 'baby' before."

"You don't like it?"

She shook his head. "No."

"OK," he smiled at her. "What's wrong, _darling_?" Matthew asked worriedly.

"Nothing. Just missed you, that's all."

"I missed you too," The doctor admitted and started pressing soft kisses to Jane's neck, to her collarbones and her shoulders. "Sophie's sleeping and we're alone tonight..." Matthew looked into her eyes. "A week without you was killing me," His fingers curled on the edged of her towel. "A week without you and the children made me realise how much I need you, how I can't live without you."

Jane said nothing. She let him pull down the towel around her body and he shifted them until she was lying on her back across their bed, and he was over her, kissing her lips and caressing her body, running his hands up and down her body, then pressing his hands behind her knees and pulling them around his waist.

"We'll alone this weekend," he whispered to her ear. "we can try for a baby."

Matthew kissed her, but when he opened his eyes, with his lips still pressed to Jane's, he noticed Jane was stiff, her eyes were wide open and she wasn't returning his kisses. She was just lying stiff under him. Her eyes lost.

"What's going on, love," Matthew insisted. "Are you okay?"

"No," She pushed him off her and sat on the bed. She covered her nakedness with her towel when she felt Matthew's warm hand over hers. "I'm not in the mood."

The doctor said nothing for a moment. His eyes were on Jane's, on the worried look in her eyes. "I know you don't like it when I... you haven't had your period recently, have you?"

Jane looked down. "No."

And she noticed there were sparks in his eyes. Hopes almost.

"Are you...," he trailed off and pressed a hand to her flat stomach. "Are you -"

"No," Jane said smiling bitterly. "Matthew, I think we need to talk about _this_. About us."

Some little tears rolled down her face. Matthew's eyes dropped, and she couldn't help but embrace her, press her tightly to his chest, press soft kisses to her forehead, as if she was his little girl who was suffering.

Because Matthew knew Jane was suffering.

"Hey, why are you crying?" The doctor wiped the tears off Jane's face, "Jane?" Matthew tried to kiss her but Jane moved her head away. "Love, what's wrong?"

Jane said nothing.

"Was it Sherlock?" He asked angrily. "Did he do something to you? Did he hurt you?"

"No, it's not - Sherlock has nothing to do with this."

"Then what is it, love? Please tell me what's wrong," Matthew begged. "You've been so quiet, so distant these past weeks. I need you to tell me what's going on," the doctor said softly. "we're one, remember?" he asked and both focused their gazes on their laced fingers, on their matching engagement rings. "I'm your boyfriend and I need to know what's bothering you."

Jane didn't know what to do, what to say. Matthew took her hands and laced their fingers. He kissed her knuckles, the soft skin of her wrists he knew she was so sensitive there. Jane glanced at their matching rings, their engagements rings and took a deep breath.

"Matthew, I don't want to have babies."

_She chose to lie to him._

"What?"

Jane bit her lip. "I don't want to have babies," she repeated. "I know... I know how much you want to have more children, but I don't want to get pregnant now."

"But you... You said we should try. You said you wanted a big family."

"I know," Jane admitted. "That was months ago and we - I think we should wait."

"Wait?"

She nodded. "Yes. I've just started my residencies, Locky will start nursery soon, Sophie is still very little and Hamish... If I get pregnant I won't be able to focus on my work and on them," she made a pause and leaned forward to take his hand. "I'm sorry, but I need my time too."

Matthew placed his hands on her waist and pulled her over his lap. He kissed her lips softly and ran a hand over her spine reassuringly. "I'm sorry. I know I've been insisting far too much," he rested her head on her chest. "I'm sorry, darling. I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," Jane said caressing her cheek. "I'd like to have more children," She said, hiding her feelings and the pain of knowing she won't be able to have children again. "But we should wait. And you wanted to get a new car, right?"

Matthew laughed. "Yeah, we need to get a bigger car, don't we?"

"Yes."

"For our three children and the one or two more coming," Matthew joked.

Jane only smiled.

* * *

 

"Wake up! Wake up!"

Sherlock opened his eyes and found Locky standing next to him, with his teddy bear tightly pressed against his chest and his thumb on his mouth. Locky's eyes revealed he had woken up long time ago and when Sherlock looked at his watch he knew something wrong was going on.

"I've never been fond of sleeping, but it's five past six," Sherlock said yawning. "We had a long talk about this. Books suggest you should sleep in your bed."

"Mish."

Sherlock sat on the bed. "Hamish?"

"Dad come! Mish sick!"

It took Sherlock less than five seconds to go upstairs, only to find his eldest son tightly wrapped with his duvet, with a worried expression on his face and fumbling around the bed, looking for something.

"Hamish?"

The boy only turned to his dad because he noticed he had got into the room. "Dad I lost my hearing aid!" he shouted.

As Hamish couldn't hear properly without his hearing aid, he shouted because he couldn't hear his own voice, and he couldn't measure his vocal pitch.

"It's okay -"

"MY HEARING AID!"

Sherlock placed both hands on the boy's thin shoulders. "Calm down, Hamish. We will find it."

"I CAN'T LISTEN TO YOU, DAD!" Hamish shouted anxiously.

The detective sat next to the boy on his bed and whispered to his left ear, where he could hear. "Calm down. We will find it. Just take deep breaths."

Hamish pressed his hands to his head and then covered his crying eyes with the palms of his hands. "I DON'T WANNA BE DEAF FOREVER!"

Sherlock felt Hamish's sadness. He felt the sadness, the desperation. Sherlock could feel how sad Hamish was, how desperate he felt and how Hamish conceived of himself as a deaf if he wasn't wearing his hearing aid.

"It's here," Sherlock said as he helped Hamish with his hearing aid. "It's okay now. I'm here."

Hamish buried his face into Sherlock's chest and cried loudly for long minutes. Sherlock kissed his fair hair, rub his back softly and say everything was okay now.

"It's very early," Sherlock said softly. "Go back to sleep."

"Can I sleep with you, dad?" Hamish almost begged. "Please, dad."

Sherlock looked at Locky who was sucking his thumb.

* * *

Sherlock closed his eyes. Next to him, to his left side was Hamish, and to his right side was Locky.

"Dad?"

"Hmm."

"Want mummy," Locky whispered.

The detective looked at Hamish's peacefully sleeping form next to him and then turned to face Locky. He noticed Locky was tightly hugging the teddy bear he had got for Hamish when he was still a little baby inside her. The bear was old and it was a bit dirty. Sherlock knew his youngest son was very fond of that stuffed animal.

And Sherlock remembered he was so high when he got it.

"She will pick you up soon," Sherlock said. "You miss her."

Locky nodded.

"If Jane is your mother, who's your father?"

Locky pointed at him. "And Matt," he added.

It felt like a knife was stabbing his chest.

"He is not your father."

"He dad. You daddy," Locky said.

"No," Sherlock said a bit angrily. "I'm your father, dad, daddy, whatever you want to call me. Doctor Morstan is merely your mother's boyfriend."

Locky's little fingers curled on his teddy bear. "Buuuaahhhhhh!"

Sherlock sighed. He held Locky in his arms and went to the living room where he sat on his chair. He cuddled Locky as if he were a very little baby an pressed little kisses to his falling tears.

"Why are you crying?"

Locky sniffed against his chest. "You bad."

"I'm your father. Your dad, your daddy. I made you," Sherlock whispered. "Your mother and I made you, you're the result of our love," The detective said lovingly. "You're my son. My little baby. Can you understand that?"

Locky said nothing.

"I love you so much," Sherlock shifted Locky so the little boy boy lie on his chest, resting his head on his shoulder. "I know I will never be able to make up for lost time. But I'm doing my best. Weekends aren't enough to be with you and your brother," Sherlock looked into his son's blue-grey eyes. "But that's what we have. That's all I can get now."

"Mish say you daddy an' mummy say you daddy an' Matt say you daddy," Locky babbled. "You daddy?"

"Yes."

"Daddy?"

"Hmm?"

Locky giggled. "Milk! I'm 'ungy!"

Sherlock couldn't help but smile widely to the child in his arms. "OK. Let's prepare some breakfast."

It had always been faster for Sherlock to prepare his coffee first and then the children's breakfast. He only had coffee while the children had milk, juice, toast with jam or sometimes cereal and biscuits. And as Sherlock knew he had to help Locky with his milk and his toast, Sherlock always prepared his coffee first so he would drink it while preparing them their food.

Sherlock placed his cup of coffee on the table and turned to prepare the cereal, the milk and the toast.

After a few minutes, whilst waiting for the toast, Sherlock frowned at the silence of the room. Usually, Locky would be walking around, stumble with the carpet, play with his toys or get hold of the remote and turn on the telly.

But the room was silent.

And when Sherlock turned, he found Locky drinking his coffee.

Shit.

"More!"

Sherlock looked at the cup. It was empty. Locky had drank all the coffee and Sherlock remembered Jane's words.

_"Don't give them coffee to neither of them. It makes Hamish feel sick and Locky won't sleep at all."_

Shit. Sherlock knew Jane was going to kill him.

"Your mother is going to kill me."

* * *

 

"That's all?"

Jane nodded and sipped more coffee. "Yeah. I'm not hungry."

"Breakfast is the most important meal. You can't just drink coffee for breakfast," Matthew said worriedly. "You have a big day ahead and you'll need energy."

Jane ate the toast almost reluctantly. "Happy now, dad?"

"Hey, what was that?"

"You remind me of my dad," Jane joked.

Matthew smiled. "Well, that's normal, I suppose. You'll turn twenty five soon and I'm thirty six."

"And?"

"I'm older than you," The doctor said bitterly. "Remember when we went to that pub and the bartender asked you if I was your father?"

Jane laughed. "He was joking -"

"He was flirting with you."

"Were you jealous?" Jane asked jokingly.

He nodded. "Of course," Jane noticed Matthew had got a bit angry. "I can't think of you with someone else."

Jane kissed his lips and smiled. "I love you."

"Please Jane, don't leave me," Matthew said. "I don't know what I would do without you. Without the children," The doctor's eyes focused on the little baby girl on her pushchair next to them. "Tell me you will always be mine."

She bit her lip and faked a smile.

"I'll always be yours."

* * *

 

Sherlock was finishing replying to some of his clients when he closed his computer and focused on his children. Locky was playing with his toys on the floor and Hamish was on the sofa, wrapped with a duvet and watching The Avengers. Generally, Sherlock had noticed, every time his favourite super heroes were engaged in some sort of fight, he would be jumping on his seat. But this time the boy was quietly watching the film.

"Who's the man with the ridiculous helmet?"

"Loki."

Sherlock nodded. "And he's what I presume the baddie?"

"Yeah."

"And why is he fighting his brother?"

"Cos he discovered they are not brothers," Hamish said softly, eyes focused on the film. "And he thinks their daddy only loved Thor cos he's adopted and son of Laufey."

"Yes, I was angry."

Hamish turned to Sherlock. "What?"

"You wanted to ask me if I was angry when your brother called Doctor Morstan 'dad'. Yes," Sherlock admitted. "I was."

"Why?"

"Because you and your brother are my children, not his."

Hamish snuggled up to Sherlock's side. "I call Matt 'daddy' sometimes... but I get confused, daddy! I swear -"

"I'm not angry with you."

"You sure?"

Sherlock kissed his son's forehead. "Yes," he looked to his watch. "You mother should come soon."

* * *

At five pm sharp, Doctor Morstan was at Baker Street.

"Oh, Doctor Morstan, it's so good to see you!"

The man smiled fondly to the woman Jane considered was like a mother to her. "God afternoon, Mrs Hudson. How are you?"

"Oh, I'm fine, thank you. How are you? How's Jane?"

"We're fine," Matt said. "She's started her residencies so I'm picking up the boys. Do you know if they are upstairs?"

The landlady nodded. "Oh yes, I'll let you go and see the boys then. Send Jane my love."

"I will."

Matthew walked the seventeen steps and knocked the door once and only after a second or two Hamish opened the door and jump over him.

"Matt!"

"Hello big poppet!"

Matthew found Locky sitting on a chair and Sherlock standing by the fireplace.

"Hello little poppet!"

Locky jumped and Matthew held him in his arms.

"Where's Jane?" Sherlock asked sharply.

"She started her medical residency at Bart's."

Sherlock's eyes fell upon the doctor. He was wearing a pair of dark grey jogging trousers, a white t-shirt, a blue jogging jacket and special trainers. Sherlock knew he had just came from the gym and that he was not lying, Jane had started her medical residency.

Matthew's eyes focused on Locky's.

"Has he -"

"It was an accident," Sherlock said, before the doctor could even ask. "He drank my coffee while I was distracted."

"I see," Matthew commented friendly. "Don't worry, I will tell Jane -"

"I'm not asking you to lie to her to protect me," Sherlock snapped.

"Have you packed your things?"

Both boys nodded.

"Say good bye to your father," Matthew said.

"Bye, daddy. I love you."

Locky pressed a sloppy kiss to Sherlock's cheek. "Bye bye daddy."

As soon as the boys were going downstairs, and out of earshot, Matthew turned to Sherlock.

"Listen, Sherlock. I know what you think of me, but that doesn't mean we are enemies. I really want us to have a good relationship - for the sake of the children."

Sherlock frowned. He felt his phone going off inside his pocket, but he ignored it. "What do you want? There is something you want to ask me, but you don't dare to."

"I want to know what happened between you and Jane," Matthew said softly. "I know something happened last week when she picked up the children."

Sherlock's phone went off again.

"What makes you think so?"

"She asked me to prepare the kids this Friday and to pick them up today," Matthew's eyes were on Sherlock's. "She's avoiding you. I want to know why."

"Go and ask her."

"Did you hurt her?"

The detective shook his head. "No." He lied.

Matthew said nothing. He only turned and left.

Sherlock took his phone and read the two messages.

**_Who will be the first?_ **

And then there was a picture.

It was a picture of Jane.

And Sherlock knew who this was. Moriarty's right-hand man.

Moriarty's right-hand man was alive then, and he wanted to destroy Sherlock, but not only him. He wanted to destroy his whole family as well.


	27. Kidnapped I

 

_"Sherlock Holmes is a dead man," the man whispered to her ear. "Tell him he will pay the price for killing our Master."_

* * *

Jane tied a scarf tightly around her neck and walked towards the street, ready to hail a cab to go back home and see her children after they had spent the weekend with their father.

It was a cold night, certainly. The streets were strangely deserted, and the thick heavy fog clouded Jane's eyes. The deep darkness of the night revealed nothing but empty streets and strange shadows. Jane soon realised she should have accepted Matthew's offer to pick her up after work. But she had to be so stubborn, an obstinate woman and now that there were no cars, no one in the streets, Jane couldn't help but feel the fear.

She hadn't feel such feeling since she was at that cold pool, where she almost lost Hamish and where she almost died. That night was just like this one: cold, deserted, there was a thick fog and the fear infiltrated through Jane's skin. Just remembering Moriarty and his voice, his Irish accent, the jacket with semtex, and the blood running down her legs, the feeling of Hamish pushing, trying to come to this world far too early before time sent shivers down her spine.

"Taxi!"

Jane didn't look at the cabbie.

She should have.

But she wanted to go back home, see her children, have a nice dinner and have some rest. The need of going home was Jane's sentence to death.

"Where shall I take you, _Mrs Holmes_?" The cabbie asked with a very Irish accent.

Jane frowned. "How do you -"

There was a hand pressing a handkerchief wet with chloroform to her face and everything went dark.

* * *

Matthew was brushing Locky's dark curls after he had helped him with his bath. The doctor caressed the boy's curls and inhaled his scent. Locky's curls, which the boy had inherited from his father, the Consulting Detective Sherlock Holmes, made him look like an angel. Many people, who didn't know him, had mistaken Locky and taken for granted the doctor was his father. When Jane went to Bart's with Locky and Matthew showed the nurses and the receptionist the little boy, everyone said always the same, that Locky looked a lot like him.

"So you had a good time with your daddy?"

Locky nodded and let the doctor help him with his jimjams.

"Is your daddy good to you?"

The toddler nodded again. "Daddy good an' funny. Daddy plays with me."

"I'm glad you like your daddy," The doctor smiled at him. "Now, will you help me to cook dinner?"

"Yes!"

Matthew went downstairs to the kitchen, carrying Locky on his hip whilst thinking about dinner. He found Hamish on the living room, playing with Sophie who was inside her cot. The doctor couldn't help but smile at the scene before him, to Hamish playing with Sophie, pressing kisses to her little blushed cheeks and making her giggle. Hamish ran his little fingers on Sophie's brownish curly hair and he was blowing soft air to her face, making the little baby girl giggle uncontrollably.

"She missed you."

Hamish smiled. "Really?"

"Of course. You are her brother."

"Matt, when is mummy coming 'ome?"

Matthew looked at his watch. "It is high time she was here," The doctor frowned. "Well, she should come home soon."

* * *

Darkness.

There was nothing but emptiness and silence. Silence and deep darkness.

Jane tried to open her eyes, but she was blindfolded. The fabric around her eyes, blinding her, was pressing her skin tightly, almost hurting her. She knew she was on a chair. And she couldn't move her legs, nor her arms. She was handcuffed to the chair. Jane could tell she was in a deserted place since there was nothing but silence. And Jane realised she was almost naked. She knew she was in an open space because she felt the cold breeze of the night caressing her bare arms, her hands handcuffed to the chair and she felt the coldness of the night on her chest, her stomach and her legs.

"Where..." Jane gasped. "Where... where am I?"

Silence.

There was nothing but silence.

"Help..." Jane mumbled. She felt breathless, almost voiceless. "Please someone help..."

Nothing.

Jane didn't know how much time passed, but after a long silence, she felt steps echoing the place. She was able to tell there was someone close, very close to her.

"Help..."

Nothing. Silence again.

And then a hand, a warm hand was on her right ankle.

"Please... help me," Jane said hoarsely.

Nothing. Silence again.

The hand started moving upwards to her knee and then to her thigh. That's when Jane realised that warm hand didn't belong to someone who wanted to help her but to someone who wanted to hurt her.

"Don't...," Jane gasped. Tears were running down her eyes, wetting the fabric covering her eyes. "Please, don't do it."

Silence.

The hand moved upwards again, and now it was close to her underwear. Jane felt two fingers on the lace waistband of her panties, trying to pull it down, but just a bit.

"Please don't..."

Jane felt another hand. Another warm hand was on her chest, on the valley between her breasts and pulling the straps of her bra down.

"Don't hurt me, please..." She begged. "Please, I'm begging you."

And then the hands disappeared. Suddenly those warm hands on her bare cold body disappeared and Jane sighed relieved. But then those soft, warm hands turned to cold fists and Jane suddenly felt sharp knuckles hitting her face. Jane gasped for air, she felt blood inside her mouth and more tears rolled down her face.

* * *

Matthew glanced at his phone again. He sent more than thirty texts and he had called Jane more than twenty times. She hadn't replied, nor she had pick up the calls. The doctor had already called all the doctors he knew at Bart's and asked them if they had seen her, if they had seen Jane. The receptionist told him she had seen Jane leaving more than two hours ago.

And that's the moment when the doctor realised something wrong was going on. The doctor dialled the number of the first person he could think of and that moment. Matthew dialled the number of the man he knew could help him to find his girlfriend.

"Sherlock?"

* * *

Sherlock frowned. But he picked up the call. He knew Doctor Morstan would never call him unless it was for something important. And after receiving those texts and Jane's picture, Sherlock knew Jane could be in danger, but...

"Doctor Morstan."

_"Jane is... she hasn't come home yet."_

Sherlock noticed the desperation behind the doctor's words. " _He_ 's taken her."

_"Who? Oh God... please, we've got to find her -"_

Sherlock finished the call. He got to his feet, took his coat and his scarf and rushed down to the streets.

* * *

Another fist collided against her face and Jane didn't know if she would be able to take more. She was still sitting on that chair, with her arms and legs handcuffed to it. The straps of her bra were down. Jane felt blood running down the corner of her mouth, falling down her neck and to her chest. She couldn't stop crying because no matter how much she tried, how much she begged, she got nothing but silence and more fists collided against her face.

"Please..." Jane cried. "I'm begging you!"

After so much begging, Jane felt the man in front of her had lost his patience because suddenly those warm hands were on her body again. Jane felt a pair of warm hands pulling down her bra, only to reveal her breasts. She tried to struggle, to move, try to get herself free, even when she knew she wouldn't - she was handcuffed.

Jane gasped when she felt those same hands that had punched her but now on her breasts, squeezing them roughly, violently, causing her nothing but pain.

"Arggghhhh STOP! DON'T TOUCH ME!"

This time one hand slapped her hard across the face.

"Why are you doing this to me? Who are you?" She cried.

Jane heard nothing but a laugh. A male laugh.

And Jane couldn't stop thinking in her children, in Hamish and Locky. She didn't want to die. She didn't want to leave them alone. Jane knew how much her eldest son had suffered when Sherlock 'died', so she didn't want him and Locky to suffer again, to suffer her death. Jane didn't want to die and never see her children again.

* * *

Outside Baker Street was a black car parked and Sherlock didn't need to look twice to know who was inside.

Mycroft opened the door and Sherlock got in. As soon as Sherlock closed the door, Mycroft handed him some pictures. They were all pictures of Jane getting into a cab.

"Where is she?"

Mycroft assented. "Detective Inspector Lestrade has already been notified about it."

* * *

Greg was the first getting out of the car and running into the old factory. Everything was dark and he was sure Jane was there. He had to be there. Mycroft Holmes called him to tell him the news, that Jane had been kidnapped and taken to an old factory. Greg knew Jane was right: Mycroft or Sherlock, or both, had set surveillance on her.

And Greg was thankful to that.

"Spread out! Spread out and find her!"

Many police officers ran and encircled the building. Greg went inside carrying only a gun and his torch. He was angry. He still couldn't believe it. Detective Inspector Lestrade was determined to kill the one who was threatening the life of who he loved as if she was his daughter.

"Jane?" Greg shouted. "Jane?"

"Sir. Sir, look," a police man said, pointing at the clothes left on the dusty floor.

Greg's eyes widened. "These are... these are my daughter's clothes."

Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade gasped for air when realisation it him like a brick. He recognised the dark coat, the blue jeans and the jumper. Those were Jane's clothes.

Jane was in danger.

* * *

Mrs Hudson opened the front door and found Doctor Morstan carrying baby Sophie in his arms and Locky and Hamish standing next to him. Both boys were wearing their jimjams and their slippers. The landlady knew something wrong was going on as soon as her eyes fell on the doctor's worried face.

"Matthew?"

"Is Sherlock in here?"

"Oh no, he just left. Why?"

"Mrs Hudson, I need you to take care of them, please," The doctor said, getting inside and placing baby Sophie on the old lady's arms. " _Please_ ," then Matthew turned to the boys. "I have to go and help some kids at the hospital, okay? Stay here with Nan Hudson. I'll be right back. Go inside."

Hamish frowned. "And mummy?"

"Jane is working. She's fine - just... stay with your Nan and behave, please."

As soon as both children were inside Mrs Hudson's flat and out of earshot, the doctor explained the landlady the situation.

"Jane's been kidnapped."

"What?"

Matthew nodded, his eyes were bloodshot. "She's missing. I..." the doctor trailed off when he felt some tears threatening to go out. "God, I don't know where she is."

* * *

Jane was gasping for more air when she felt a hand on her hipbone, trying to pull her panties down and another hand on her thigh, very close to the most intimate place of her body.

"Please, don't do it! Please!"

She had always heard nothing but silence.

But this time the man touching her, hurting her, spoke.

"I won't do it. The boss would kill me. He wants to do it _himself_."

Jane cried. "Please, let me go!"

"You look sexier this way," said the strange man, his Irish accent was so annoying, so fearful. "so _vulnerable_. I see why the boss wants you."

"Let me go!"

He slapped her again. "He won't stop until killing you and them. And the last one will be Holmes."

"Who are you?" Jane gasped. "What do you want?"

"I'm no one," the man whispered pressing kisses to Jane's neck, to her collarbones and finally to the pale skin of her breasts, close to her nipples. "Just a messenger. Tell your _husband_ to stop prying."

"DON'T TOUCH ME!"

This time he punched her.

" _Sherlock Holmes_ is a dead man," the man whispered to her ear. "Tell him he will pay the price for killing our _Master_."

* * *

Suddenly Greg was standing behind his desk and in front of him were Doctor Matthew Morstan and Sherlock Holmes.

"We've followed the CCTV footage," Greg said hoarsely. "We went to that old factory. She wasn't there. We only found this," the D.I. pointed at the clothes on his chair. "No fingerprints, no hair -"

"She was taken somewhere else," Sherlock said cutting Greg off. "He has taken Jane to prove me he's _alive_ , but he won't kill her."

"Who?" Matthew asked.

"Irrelevant."

"It is _relevant_!" The doctor shouted. "Someone just kidnapped my wife!"

Sherlock was just this close to punch the doctor. "She's _my_ wife!"

"She was kidnapped because of you!" Matthew snapped. "All of this is because of you!"

Greg bit his lip. "Boys..."

"Shut up!"

The doctor was just inches apart from Sherlock. "You should have remained _dead._ "

Sherlock closed the space between them by walking the remain step that kept them apart.

The doctor looked into Sherlock's eyes. "Everything was better. The children were doing well," Matthew pulled the curls that were hanging over his forehead off, with the hand in which he was wearing the engagement ring. "And Jane was safe."

"And _I_ ask _yo_ u, what do you know about safety? What do you know about keeping Jane safe?"

"What do you mean?"

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "You are a doctor. You should know what I'm talking about."

Greg stepped between them. "OK guys -"

"I don't like riddles."

"Learn to," Sherlock snapped. "You know what I'm talking about. You just don't want to see it. You don't want to _admit_ it."

Matthew was furious until realisation hit him like a brick, until he realised what Sherlock was talking about. Images of Jane sick in the bathroom claiming dinner was too spicy for her, images of of Jane lost looking at the calendar in the kitchen, images of Jane sleeping more than she was used to, images of Jane wearing baggy jumpers and shirts... images of Jane rejecting his touches when he wanted to make love to her.

Now everything fell into its place.

And Doctor Morstan preferred to _ignore_ it.

"We need to find her."

The D.I nodded at the Doctor. "Exactly. While you fight my daughter is missing and in danger," Greg said angrily. "Sherlock, what do you know?"

"He's not going to kill her. But we need to find her."

"Who's 'he'?" Greg asked. "You keep saying 'he'."

"Irrelevant -"

A police man opened the door and hurried his steps towards the D.I. "Sir, someone dropped this at the reception."

It was a brown envelope with Sherlock's name written on it. Sherlock practically ripped it out Greg's hands and observed it closely before open it.

"What is it?" Matthew asked.

Sherlock tore the paper up and the content fell over Greg's desk.

It was a blood stained bra and a dictaphone.

"It's..." The doctor's eyes dropped on the piece of underwear before he took it into his hands. "It's Jane's."

Sherlock played the tape.

_"Help... Please someone help me..."_

It was Jane's voice.

"Sir, we've got reports of a bonfire at Hyde park. And a woman's been found," another officer said. "The physical description matches with the kidnapped."

Everyone ran to the streets. Greg and his team got into police cars while Matthew ran to his own car and Sherlock to hail a cab.

"Get in."

Sherlock hesitated.

"She's in danger," The doctor reminded him. "Get in."

And then both men were together in one same car trying to find Jane before it was too late.


	28. Kidnapped II

_"Please, let me go!"_

_The man laughed. "This is a game and you'll have to choose," the captor said to her ear. "There are two players and one bullet," the man said loading his revolver and rotating the cylinder. "And one of them will die."_

* * *

Jane was being handcuffed out the chair and suddenly she felt a pair of hands carrying her, not delicately at all, but roughly to where she later realised was a van. The fabric was still thigh over her eyes blinding her so Jane didn't know where she was, where she was going - to where she was being taken. But once she was sitting inside the van she was handcuffed again and covered with a soft, warm duvet.

"Where... Where are you taking me?"

"You'll see."

Jane gasped for air when she felt the vehicle moving. "Please, let me go..."

"I will. Soon," the man chuckled. "I'm taking you to where everything started. To where you should have _died_."

* * *

Neither of them spoke in the car. Sherlock's eyes were on the streets, on his phone, and occasionally on the doctor. Matthew was focused on the road, on the engine, he kept glancing at his watch and at his phone just in case Greg called.

As soon as they got to Hyde Park, Matthew pulled the car close to the police's. Sherlock and Matthew ran to the bonfire to where a woman, whose physical description matched with Jane's, had been found. Several people were on the park, even when it was quite late. The bonfire wasn't big, but not small. There were several police officers spreading out and asking people to move away. Greg Lestrade was there too, telling his team to look for Jane.

"Move!" Sherlock shouted to the crowd whilst running to the bonfire. "Move!"

Close behind the detective was Matthew.

Both men ran as fast as they could. Their hearts were pounding hard within their chests. Both felt the adrenaline running through their veins and the fear of finding Jane badly hurt. Sherlock knew Jane was alive, the detective knew Moriarty's right-hand man was not going to kill her because he just wanted to make himself noticeable - that's why he had taken Jane.

That's why Moriarty's right-hand man had taken Jane: to tell Sherlock Holmes he was alive and that this was _war_.

But the doctor felt another kind of fear: the fear of losing Jane forever. He wanted to believe in Sherlock's words, that this man, who Matthew didn't know who he was, but apparently was someone dangerous, only wanted to hurt Jane and that he was not going to kill her. But how much could he have hurt her? What if he hurt Jane and left scars forever? Matthew didn't want to think of it.

He, just like Sherlock, only wanted to find, rescue, save Jane.

They ran to the bonfire where they spotted a crowd surrounding the found woman. Hopefully Jane.

She wasn't.

She had fair hair, blue eyes, pale complexion and she had been kidnapped.

But she wasn't Jane.

Both men walked away from the scene and let the policemen work, help the found woman and so on. The firemen did they job and soon the bonfire was extinguished. There were also several reporters, photographers taking photos and collecting testimonies for the following day's news.

Matthew and Sherlock were standing at the corner of the street, under a streetlight watching the scene and the people walking around.

"She was pregnant," Matthew almost whispered. "That's what you meant. Why she told _you_?"

Sherlock didn't look at him. "She didn't. I _deduced_ it."

"She had an abortion..." the doctor said hoarsely. "And she didn't tell me."

This time the detective turned to see him. "If you think that, then you don't know her at all."

Matthew looked away when he felt the tears in his eyes. He said nothing for a moment when he smiled bitterly. "You must be happy."

"No."

"No?" Matthew asked surprised.

Sherlock's eyes fell on the engagement ring Matthew was wearing, the same engagement ring he shared with Jane. "I wish her nothing but happiness."

"Do you?"

"I'd give everything so they are safe and happy," Sherlock looked down. "Even when it isn't with me."

Matthew let the words get into his mind. His eyes were on Sherlock, on his pale face, on his grey, worried eyes and he knew the detective had really mean it. Matthew knew Sherlock loved Jane. The doctor knew Sherlock still loved Jane, that he had never stopped loving her and that even Sherlock loved Jane more than ever right now. The doctor knew what was to love a woman with his all heart: he had loved Anna, his wife who died years ago and now he loved Jane more than anything else in the world.

So Matthew knew Sherlock wanted to find Jane because he loved her, because he wanted her to be safe and because she was the mother of their children and the woman of their life. The doctor knew they had to find her.

They had to find her.

"I didn't meant what I said."

"You did," Sherlock said and raised an eyebrow. "At the beginning."

Matthew nodded. "Yes. When you appeared I wished you would have remained dead," the doctor turned to Sherlock. "But Hamish and Locky needed a father."

"Locky is very fond of you. _Both_ are."

"His first word was 'daddy'," Matthew said. "It was his first birthday. He was in my arms when he pointed at the picture of you and Jane together on your wedding day when he said 'daddy'."

Sherlock's eyes lit up, but he said nothing.

"I've never tried to take your place," the doctor confessed. "I've only wanted them to be all right, to be happy."

"You still think I'm nothing but a potential threat," Sherlock said. "But she was going to give you a _child_ ," Matthew's eyes showed how sad he felt inside. "And that only proves how much she _loves you_."

* * *

Jane was standing on a cold floor. She could feel the cold air on her whole body and nothing but silence. She was still blindfolded so she could see nothing, but she knew she had been taken to somewhere deserted.

And then she felt something familiar, something she couldn't quite tell what it was.

"You look sexy in green," her captor said whilst looking at the green jacket.

Jane gasped. "What... where am I?"

"You're trapped with enough semtex to blow this pool and left nothing but ashes," the man said strangely happily. "You should pray, you know."

Jane sobbed and tears started to roll down her face. "Why me? Why are you doing this to me?"

"The Boss will tell you _soon_. You will survive. Well, as long as your husband finds you."

She pressed a hand to her mouth when she realised where she was and what she was wearing: she was at that pool, at that same pool where she almost died, where Hamish was almost born and where Sherlock left her and their baby alone and where they faced James Moriarty for the first time. And she was wearing a jacket with enough semtex to kill her.

"Please, let me go!"

The man laughed. "This is a game and you'll have to choose," the captor said to her ear. "There are two players and one bullet," the man said loading his revolver and rotating the cylinder. And one of them will die."

"Matthew and Sherlock..." Jane almost whispered when she realised what her captor was talking about.

The man patted her head softly, sending shivers to Jane's spine. "Yes. The two of them are looking for you."

"Please -"

"I haven't finished," said the man softly as he grabbed Jane's trembling hand and giving her the revolver. "You will have to kill one of them if you want your see your children _alive_."

* * *

Sherlock's phone went off.

_**Where is she?** _

_**Where do you think?** _

_**Go to where everything started** _

_**And you will find her.** _

_**Come alone.** _

"What is it?" Matthew demanded as soon as he noticed the worried look on Sherlock's face. "Is it Greg?"

Sherlock walked past the doctor and hailed a cab. " _He_ wants me to go alone."

* * *

Jane waited.

For long minutes she waited.

Jane waited for someone to come for her, to save her and take her somewhere away from this man, from this madness, from this hell.

But whoever crossed the door was going to die. And Jane was going to pull the trigger. She had to kill whoever crossed that door because otherwise her children, Hamish and Locky would die.

* * *

Sherlock knew where she was. He immediately knew it as soon as he read that text.

**_Go to where everything started._ **

That pool. That pool where they faced James Moriarty for the first time... that was the place. Jane was at that place when she almost lost Hamish, when she almost died and when he left her and their baby to run after Moriarty, to get another line, to get more cocaine within his system, to beat Moriarty and please his need of ecstasy, adrenaline.

Sherlock ran inside and he was not surprised to find the entire place sunk into darkness, deserted. The place was cold, strangely cold and dark. The silence was deep, almost fearful.

And for the first time Sherlock felt the fear growing inside him when he opened the last door and found Jane standing in the middle of the pool, wearing a jacket with enough semtex to not only kill them both but lots of people as well and holding a revolver.

And aiming at him.

And Sherlock remembered that cold night.

_"Evening... This is a turn up, isn't it - Sherlock?"_

_"Jane? What the hell -" said Sherlock as he looked at her. It was the first time they were face to face after what had happened. After Sherlock had hit her and pushed her down the stairs._

_Sherlock looked at Jane. It was a very cold night and she was only wearing a hospital gown. Jane was shaking and sweating, she looked feverish and when Sherlock looked down to the floor, he saw blood._

_"Bet you never saw this coming," said Jane and opened her jacket, revealing the explosives. "What would you like me to make her say next? Gottle o'geer, Gottle o'geer, Gottle o-"_

_"Stop it!"_

_Jane closed her eyes while clenching her teeth. She wanted to scream, the pain was almost unbearable but she knew she had to follow Moriarty's_ _instructions. "Nice touch, this pool... where little Carl died. I stopped him and I can stop Jane Watson too. Stop her heart. Stop her baby's heart..."_

* * *

Jane was still blindfolded, but she could hear the door being opened and the voice in his ear started to command her next movement.

_"Aim."_

She did as she had been told.

Jane didn't know to whom she was aiming that gun at. But she didn't want it to be Sherlock. Nor Matthew. She didn't want to kill either of them. But she knew she would have to. Jane loved her children more than anything else in the world and she knew she would never forgive herself if anything happened to them.

So Jane aimed the gun and wished she didn't have to do it. That she didn't have to pull the trigger and kill Matthew or Sherlock.

* * *

Sherlock was about to run to her when Jane's trembling voice filled the silence of the room.

"Don't! Jane...," Sherlock mumbled. "Jane, drop that gun."

She shook her head when she realised it was Sherlock. "No. I have to _kill_ you."

"Drop the gun..."

" _He_ 's going to kill our children if I don't do it," she explained between sobs. "I'm sorry, Sherlock."

And then the detective panicked. "Don't! They are with Mycroft," he almost shouted. "They are safe. No one got them! He's lying to you!"

That was the moment when Jane dropped the gun to the floor and removed the fabric off her eyes, only to see Sherlock standing a few feet from her with tears in his eyes.

Sherlock couldn't stop the tears when he saw Jane's face, the bruises on her pale skin, the tears, the blood and the sadness. Sherlock didn't mind getting killed. He cared little about himself. Sherlock ran to Jane. He knelt to get the jacket off her when he noticed she was wearing nothing but a pair of panties under it.

But neither of them cared.

Before Jane could say something, Sherlock knelt before her. "Are you all right?" Sherlock's voice was shaking as he untied Jane off that jacket as fast as he could. "Please, love, tell me you're all right!" His eyes were on hers, on her crying eyes when Sherlock immediately took off his long coat and wrapped Jane's delicate, bruised body with it.

She sighed relieved when she felt the warmness of Sherlock's body through his coat, his scent and she threw her arms around him and press her head to his chest. To Sherlock's surprise, Jane was clinging to him, burying her face into his chest, crying, sobbing.

"Sherlock! God Sherlock...," Jane gasped against his chest. "I was so scared!" she sobbed, still shaking uncontrollably.

Sherlock felt his heart breaking inside by just knowing that it was his fault Jane had once again gone through something like this. She had been beaten, he could see the bruises. He collapsed against her enveloping his arms around her, one around her waist the other cradling her head. "Jane I'm sorry my love, I'm so sorry," Sherlock sobbed into her hair kissing her head, bringing his hands to her face and wiping the tears from her cheeks. "Please forgive me. I should have protect you."

They stared into each other's eyes for a moment.

Jane sniffled. "Sherlock?"

"I love you," Sherlock whispered softly as he brushed his lips against hers.

Jane couldn't stop the tears escaping her eyes, but she kissed him back and curled her fingers on his suit, bringing him closer, deepening the kiss. The kiss, that had started slowly, but was meaningful, burned with yearning and love all at the same time. Neither of them could believe it. Neither of them could believe how much they had missed each other's lips after being more than three years apart. It was their first kiss after so long, after three long years and Jane didn't realise how much she had missed him, how much she needed Sherlock until they kissed again.

Until now.

Both remembered their first kiss, given years and years ago.

_"I love you, Sherlock. And I'm sorry for calling you by a wrong name, but I love you and all this time you've been away I've realised I can't live without you. It's OK if you don't feel the same... "_

_For seconds neither of them said a word. Sherlock wanted to meet her eyes, but Jane continued looking at the sheets covering their bodies._

_And Sherlock felt something different inside his chest. Something he had never experienced before._

_"I don't have friends, Jane. I have a wife."_

_"Sherlock -"_

_"I love you."_

_Before Jane could something else, Sherlock pressed his lips against hers._

_It was their first kiss._

_And it was sweet, tender and caring._

_Sherlock's inexperienced lips followed Jane's. Both had their eyes closed and soon Sherlock placed a hand around her waist, trying to make the space between them disappear. Jane wrapped her arms around Sherlock's neck and they continued kissing._

Sherlock's right hand on her waist pulled Jane closer, if it was even possible. His other hand on the back of her neck caressed the skin there, and soon his warm hand, his fingers, his lips, his tongue inside her mouth, everything made her forget the pain, the sadness, the desperation and the fear of thinking she would never see him or their children again.

Jane moaned into the kiss. She had missed Sherlock so much, and for so long. Neither of them wanted to pull apart, to break the kiss that had got them together after so long, but they slowly had to when they felt breathless and rested their foreheads together. "Jane, I've missed you so much, I love you," the detective confessed. "I'm so sorry for everything," he added, not letting her go.

Jane didn't pull away, she only nodded bringing her own hands to hold his face. "I know," She said and tears rolled down her face. "I've missed you too. You have no idea how much I've missed you. How much I needed you..."

Both were so deep into their own world that both Jane and Sherlock ignored Matthew was behind the door, looking at them, listening to their words and that another man had a gun aiming directly at them and was ready to shot.

* * *

The doctor had driven as fast as he could, breaking some laws surely, but he didn't care. He only wanted to find Jane, save her. Save the woman he loved.

Matthew had followed Sherlock's cab and got into the building. Doctor Morstan had followed Sherlock inside the building until to the pool, but he was late: when Matthew got to the door Sherlock was already wrapping Jane's naked body with his coat, embracing her, wiping the tears off her face and kissing her.

_And Jane was kissing him back._

Matthew could see Sherlock's hands on her waist, on her neck, his lips on hers and his closed eyes while tasting her mouth. And Matthew also saw Jane's hands on his neck, pulling Sherlock close, her lips kissing his, and her eyes closed.

Seeing this, Matthew couldn't help but feel the anger growing inside him. His hands curled into fists when he heard Sherlock saying Jane how much he loved her.

* * *

"Sherlock I -" Jane felt almost breathless. " _I love you_ , but... I don't know... I can't... I shouldn't..."

Jane knew it was wrong. She didn't know what to do. Yes, she and Sherlock were still married but there was still Matthew.

She buried her face into his chest and sobbed. She was so lost with what was right and what was wrong, what she had and what she desired, with just what was the true path she had or should take.

Sherlock knew it. Sherlock knew what was inside her mind, what she was struggling with inside her heart and all he could do was hold her and hope to provide her with some comfort as she fought this internal battle. All he could do was wait for her decision and listen no matter what his own heart wished for.

He couldn't risk hurting her again, he had to let her be safe and happy even if that meant letting her go.

* * *

Tears rolled down Matthew's face. His knuckles went white and he felt his own heart breaking inside his chest.

_"Sherlock I... I love you, but... I don't know... I can't... I shouldn't..."_

Jane's words were still inside his mind, repeating themselves over and over and over again. Matthew felt like dying. Suddenly all his fears had become true: Jane was in Sherlock's arms, in her _husband's_ arms and saying she loved him. And suddenly all those years, all those moments, all those kisses, those passionate nights, those _'I love you's'_ he had heard coming out her lips vanished in the air.

Everything had been a lie.

_Jane kissed his lips and smiled. "I love you."_

_"Please Jane, don't leave me," Matthew said. "I don't know what I would do without you. Without the children," The doctor's eyes focused on the little baby girl on her pushchair next to them. "Tell me you will always be mine."_

_She bit her lip and faked a smile._

_"I'll always be yours."_

That was the moment when Matthew spotted the red dot moving close to Jane.

The doctor opened the door violently and ran to them.

"JANE!"

* * *

Jane bit her lip. "Sherlock, I -"

"JANE!"

Both turned and broke apart as soon as they saw the doctor running to them. Jane felt the panic again just when she saw the tears in the doctor's face, his hands curled into fists and Jane thought Matthew had seen them, she and Sherlock kissing.

"Matt -"

Sherlock stepped back when everything, in mere seconds, happened. Matthew stepped in front of Jane and then they heard a shot. Doctor Morstan fell to the floor and there was a blood stain on his shirt growing and growing and a pool of blood on the floor.

"Matt!" Jane gasped. "Matthew -"

Sherlock watched how in seconds Jane was kneeling on the floor, next to her boyfriend, taking his hand and asking God to save him, to keep him alive.

"Don't die!" Jane begged. "Please don't die!"

Matthew was lying on his back on the floor. Jane was next to him, her hands stained with his own blood and she was shaking. She was a doctor, she knew what she had to do, but she just couldn't do it.

And Jane felt paralysed.

The doctor held her hand and smiled weakly at her. "You're safe," he whispered and let out a long sigh.

"No, Matthew no -" Jane said hoarsely, seeing the doctor was closing his eyes, losing consciousness. _Dying_. "Don't close you eyes. Please, do it for me!"

Suddenly Sherlock didn't know what to do.

Because in front of him Doctor Morstan was dying and Jane was crying a river of tears.

"I love you, Jane..." Matthew said, bringing Jane's hand to his mouth and pressing a soft kiss to her skin. "God, I love you so..."

Matthew closed his eyes.


	29. Let Me Feel You

_"Who did this, Sherlock?"_

_"Moriarty's right-hand man is behind all this," the detective said softly, his eyes focused on the baby girl in the pushchair. "He was showing off. Proving he's alive."_

 

* * *

Matthew's body was being taken into an ambulance. The paramedics, nurses and doctors were running to the ambulance and they had no time: The doctor had lost a considerable amount of blood and they had to take him to an hospital as fast as they could otherwise Matthew could die.

Jane ran to him. Tears rolled down her face when her eyes fell on the wound on his stomach, the blood running out the wound, like a red river... And Jane watched Matthew's face pale, his eyes closed, his right hand hanging off the stretcher and his engagement ring almost falling.

Jane didn't mind the bruises on her body, the pain, the blood, nothing. She ran to Matthew's side and held his hand.

"Miss -"

"Please let me go with him," Jane begged. "Please!"

The nurse shook her head. "I'm sorry, only close relatives -"

"Please!" Jane was struggling with her own words when Sherlock appeared.

"She's his wife," the detective lied.

Maybe it was because of the rush of the moment, the fear, the anxiety, Jane didn't listen to Sherlock's words. Her eyes, her whole attention, her whole self was on the man dying on the stretcher inside the ambulance. Jane didn't even noticed Sherlock took her hand and helped her to get into the ambulance. She was shaking uncontrollably when she took Matthew's hand. She kissed his cheek and tried not to look at the bound on her boyfriend's stomach.

Sherlock watched the scene before him in silence.

"Don't die..." Jane whispered, her eyes focused on the doctor. "Please Matt, don't die."

* * *

 

Jane was still wrapped in Sherlock's coat when the doctors told her she was fine, that she had no broken bones and that the bruises on her face were going to fade, disappear soon. They told her to go home and stay in bed, but Jane refused to leave the hospital. She sat in the waiting room and waited until Matthew would leave the operating room. The doctors helping Matthew had already warned Jane it was going to be a difficult procedure because they didn't know for sure how much damage the bullet had caused and the blood loss was an important factor.

They told Jane to be ready for the worst.

And she waited.

Jane waited for hours and hours and next to her was Greg, who at the beginning tried to convince her to go home, to get some rest, but Jane wouldn't listen. So still wrapped with Sherlock's coat and resting her head on Greg's shoulder, Jane waited and waited.

"How's he?" Jane asked to the doctor as soon as she spotted him leaving the operating room. "Is he okay?"

The doctor nodded to her. "It was a long procedure and he'd lost a considerable amount of blood," the doctor said concernedly. "He will have to stay here for a while."

* * *

 

"Mummy, what happened to your face?"

Jane sat between her children in the room they had at their grandparents', the same room that had once been Sherlock's, when he was a very little boy.

Her children were safe. Sherlock was right then, Mycroft had taken them and they were safe with Richard and Elizabeth. The politician had also set a broad security team all around the house and inside too.

"I just fell," she lied to her eldest son. "How are you?"

"Fine," Hamish snuggled up to her, believing her lie. "Where's Matt, mummy?"

Locky's eyes fell on hers. "Matt, mummy." He repeated.

Jane bit her lip. "Matthew is in hospital now."

"He's workin'?"

"No, he... he's a bit ill, that's all," Jane lied again. "So he will have to stay there for a while."

Hamish pouted. "Why? Is he going to die?"

"No."

"You sure?"

Jane nodded, swallowing her tears. "Yes. He won't die."

Locky pressed a sloppy kiss to his mother's bruised cheek. "Want Matt, mummy."

"I know baby, I want to be with him too."

"And can we go and visit him? Please mummy, say yes!"

Jane shook her head. "No, we can't go."

"Why?"

"Because he's ill... and he needs to have some rest," Jane explained. "So now we're going to stay here for a while, with your grandparents."

Hamish looked sad.

And Locky started to cry.

Of the two of them, Locky was the one very fond of the doctor. And it didn't surprise anyone now since Doctor Morstan had practically raised Locky, he had been his father figure for most of his life so far and every now and then Locky called Matthew 'dad'.

It broke Jane's heart.

And everything was happening all over again. Jane remembered being seven months pregnant and telling Hamish Sherlock, his daddy, had died and that he would never be back again. Now more than three years later she was going through the same: she was telling her children the man who was her boyfriend, who had been like a father to them was very ill. But Jane didn't tell them the whole. She didn't tell her children Matthew was fighting for his life.

And it was her fault.

Jane couldn't help but cry with Locky because she felt guilty: Matthew took that bullet for her. He risked his own life for her.

And she had cheated on him.

Jane cheated on him with Sherlock. She kissed the detective, she had clung to him as if her life depended on it and she forgot the doctor. Jane forgot Matthew was also looking for her, doing everything within his power to find her and save her and she forgot all about him and the life they had, the family they were building. Jane forgot they were adopting a baby girl of no more than three months, she forgot he loved her and that just a couple of days ago she was carrying Matthew's child, but unfortunately she lost it.

"Want Matt, mummy," Locky cried, his head buried on her chest. "Pwease."

Jane rubbed his little back softly and pressed warm kisses to the boy's dark curls. "Don't cry, Locky. We just need to wait a couple of days and I'll take you to see him. Okay?"

* * *

 

As his children and Jane were staying at his parents', Sherlock decided to go and talk to her. Because what had happened deserved an explanation. Not only the kidnapping, but also their kiss.

Feeling Jane's lips on his again, her warm hands on his neck, her body being pressed against his, her scent, everything - everything was too much. After so many years apart, after more than three years, they found each other again.

Sherlock found Jane again.

Their kiss was like reminded him of the old times: like those kisses they had after they had made love, when he was still inside her, when she was still clinging to him, with her hands around his neck, her fingers caressing his dark wild curls, when their limbs were still entangled, when their bodies were still naked and very, but very close to each other.

It burnt him.

Jane's kisses burnt his lips. Sherlock touched them, let his fingertips dance over his lips and he still could feel Jane's lips, her taste, everything.

_Jane moaned into the kiss. She had missed Sherlock so much, and for so long. Neither of them wanted to pull apart, to break the kiss that had got them together after so long, but they slowly had to when they felt breathless and rested their foreheads together. "Jane, I've missed you so much, I love you," the detective confessed. "I'm so sorry for everything," he added, not letting her go._

_Jane didn't pull away, she only nodded bringing her own hands to hold his face. "I know," She said and tears rolled down her face. "I've missed you too. You have no idea how much I've missed you. How much I needed you..."_

_"Sherlock I -" Jane felt almost breathless. "I love you, but... I don't know... I can't... I shouldn't..."_

And Sherlock needed to know if she meant it. If she really loved him, if she had ever stopped loving him, if she wanted to go back to him.

* * *

 

Jane was sitting next to Matthew's bed. She was holding his hand, caressing his knuckles with her thumb.

Matthew was still unconscious. He had to be given sedatives and blood transfusions. Doctor Morstan had lost lots of blood and he was very weak. The doctors told Jane he had been very lucky because the bullet didn't touch any vital organ nor vital vessels, such as arteries.

But there was still a chance of things getting worse and Matthew could die.

"The boys miss you lots," Jane whispered, her eyes fell on baby Sophie who was wide awake on her pushchair. "Here's Sophie. She misses you too."

The doctor was deep lost into unconsciousness.

"I miss you."

Jane got to her feet and kissed Matthew's hand. A single tear rolled down her face and fell onto the skin of his hand. "Get better, okay? Promise me you'll get better. Do it for Sophie," Jane whispered. "She had already -" she trailed off and sighed tiredly. "She had already been left alone once. Please Matt, let's not leave her without a father again."

Jane was leaving the hospital with baby Sophie. They were walking along the park when Jane saw Sherlock sitting on a bench. He was holding two coffees, somehow already waiting for her.

"Hi."

She sat next to him when he handed her one coffee. "Thank you."

"How's he?"

"Stable," Jane said hoarsely. "He's been given blood transfusions and sedatives."

Sherlock showed no emotion whatsoever. But he was able to tell Jane was sad, very sad and depressed. He saw the bruises were fading away and her skin was tanned again, slightly blushed. The detective also noticed the bags under her eyes and her sore throat - she had been crying.

"How are you?" Sherlock asked almost shyly.

Jane licked her lips nervously. "I'm fine. We're staying at your parents."

"I know."

"You can go and see the boys, you know," Jane said softly, turning to him for the first time. "You can see them whenever you want, you don't have to wait till Friday."

Sherlock nodded. "How are they?"

"Hamish is a bit grumpy because he's missing school. He can't understand it's for his own good."

"And Locky?"

Jane shook her head. "He's fine."

"You don't need to lie to me."

"Locky misses Matthew," Jane said, realising she couldn't lie to Sherlock. "He cries every night."

Sherlock said nothing. He watched other children playing a few feet from them. All those children were playing with their fathers, kicking a ball, playing hide and seek, laughing. And Sherlock couldn't help but think how unfair life was, how unfair life was being with him because he couldn't enjoy his children as much as he wanted to. He couldn't laugh and play with his children like other fathers did. Sherlock could spend weekends with them, with Hamish and Locky, watch films, go to the park. Sherlock knew Hamish and Locky didn't laugh, when they were with him, as much as they laughed when they were with Doctor Morstan.

"Who did this, Sherlock?"

"What did he tell you?"

Jane pressed her thumbs to her eyes to prevent the tears falling. "He said you have to stop prying."

"What else?"

"That you'd pray the price for killing their 'Master'," Jane added. "He said he was going to kill me, the children and that you were going to be the last one."

Sherlock nodded. "Moriarty's right-hand man is behind all this," the detective said softly, his eyes focused on the baby girl in the pushchair. "He was showing off. Proving he's alive."

"I... I remember when I was," Jane pressed a hand to her mouth when she remember that cold night at the pool. "I remember that night... I was... I was unconscious but I could hear voices. He was talking to someone else..." Jane bit her lip and frowned. "'Seb'... Moriarty said 'Seb'."

"Yes. Sebastian Moran, James Moriarty's right-hand man."

"I thought you..."

The detective shook his head. "He was a rumour," Sherlock's eyes focused on the fading bruises on her face. "I had a suspicion. It grew uncontrollably until I killed the last man."

"How many where they?"

"I've lost count," Sherlock said bitterly. "I killed so many that I've lost count."

Jane remained silent.

That was the moment when she realised she had never asked Sherlock what he did during those three years. She knew Sherlock fought Moriarty's empire, but she didn't know exactly what he did, what he had to go through.

"It was my mistake - my fault. I should have protected you, but I miscalculated the risks," Sherlock said softly. "So he took advantage of my miscalculation to hurt you."

"It was nothing."

Sherlock pressed a hand to her bruised cheek. "You were hit not only once but several times," a tear rolled down Jane's cheek and Sherlock wiped it off. "You were hit _again_ because of me."

When Sherlock leaned forward to kiss her, Sophie started to cry in her pushchair, bringing Jane back to reality. She took the baby girl and cradled her in her arms. "What are we going to do, Sherlock?"

"We know nothing whatsoever. There's nothing about him on the records."

Jane got to her feet. She placed Sophie back on her pushchair and faked a smile. Her eyes fell on Sherlock and she smiled at him weakly. "We'll fight this together. You have to promise me you'll let me help you," she said softly. "And you have to promise me you won't leave our children alone again."

"I won't," Sherlock said firmly. "I'll protect you. You and our children will be safe."

She said nothing. But she wanted to say so many things. She wanted to tell Sherlock she was not going to let him 'die' again. She wanted to tell him their kiss was confusing her, that their kiss had led her to ask herself whom she was in love with, and if he would ever want her back again.

Because that kiss brought back old memories. Old memories of the love she had for Sherlock.

Old memories of the love she thought she didn't have inside her heart any more.

* * *

 

Two days later Doctor Morstan opened his eyes.

"Hey," Jane whispered when the doctor opened his eyes. She smiled at him lovingly and pressed a chaste kiss to the corner of his lips. "You're awake."

Matthew blinked twice. It took him a moment to get used to the lights of the room when he focused on Jane and on the bruises on her face. He was so confused. He could only remember bits... he jumping over Jane, a burning sensation on his stomach and darkness. But when he saw the faint bruises on Jane's face, he remembered she had been kidnapped and how much he and Sherlock tried to find her.

"Love, what did they do to you?" He asked, his voice hoarse, sore. "What did they do to your beautiful face?" Matthew pressed a warm hand to Jane's cheek and cupped her face. _"My little girl."_

Jane cried. She cried when she heard Matthew calling her 'my little girl'. He always called like that when he knew she was sad, when she missed her dead father, her mother and her sister who turned their backs to her and her children. Their relationship had always been characterised by how protective Matt was over Jane. As he was older than her, not for so many years but enough to sometimes treat her as a delicate child, as a girl made of porcelain, made of fine and very delicate crystal. Matthew sometimes treated Jane as if she was his daughter, as if she was someone he needed to protect from the world and from the madness on it.

That's why Jane loved to feel the doctor's arms around her, his strong arms that protected her and kept her safe from everything. Jane had got so used to feel his arms, Matthew's arms that when she saw him _dying_ on the cold floor of that pool she thought what her life would be like without him.

She had felt that same feeling before when Sherlock 'killed' himself in front of her.

And Jane didn't want to feel like that again.

"What did they do to you, baby?" Matthew asked her with sadness behind his voice. "Tell me they did nothing more than this, my little girl."

She shook her head, still shaking uncontrollably. "He just hit me a couple of times, that's all."

Matthew nodded. He closed his eyes and hissed in pain when he tried to move his body on the mattress.

"Don't move," Jane said softly.

The doctor didn't listen to her and moved further to the right side of the bed and then patted the little empty place next to him. "Come here."

"You need to have some rest -"

"Please love, come here with me," Matthew whispered. "I need you."

Jane did as he had asked her.

"You took that bullet for me," Jane said lying next to Matthew, on her side so that way she could face him. She pressed a soft kiss to the doctor's bare, strong muscled chest and placed her hand on the curve of his neck.

The doctor nodded. "Yes."

"Why did you do that, Matt? You shouldn't have to," Jane said with little tears in her eyes.

"Why you say that, darling?"

"You almost died," Jane wiped the tears off her face. "It was... It was a very stupid thing to do!"

Matthew smiled weakly and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Was it stupid of me to take a bullet to save the woman I love? To save your life, baby?" Jane said nothing. "I love you, Jane. More than I can really explain. That's why I did it," the doctor pressed more kisses to her face, to her bruises. "And I would do it again. For you and our baby," Matthew's lips brushed hers. "For you and all our children."

"Are you okay?" She asked, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm okay. Better now with you here," he said with a weak smile. "Where are the kids?"

"At Elizabeth and Richard's. Mycroft had security on the house," Jane smiled at him. "You should see all the guards outside. There are more than in Buckingham Palace," she joked.

Matthew laughed a bit. "OK. Are you staying with them?"

"No."

"No?"

She nodded. "I'll stay here with you."

"But the children need you," Matthew said. "And you won't be safe here. What if someone hurts you again?"

"I'm staying here with you," Jane pressed a kiss to his lips. "I'll take good care of you."

Matthew kissed her again and pulled Jane closer, deepening the kiss. "God, I need you so much right now."

Jane left the bed and sat on a chair next to him. "Get some sleep, Matt."

"And you go with the kids."

"But I don't want to leave you."

The doctor smiled at her lovingly. "The children need you. I'll be fine, I promise."

"I..." Jane faked a smile. "I love you Matt. I don't know what I would have done if you -"

"Don't cry," Matthew said softly. "I'm here now, my little girl. I won't leave you and our children alone, I promise."

Jane nodded. "They want to see you. Locky cries every night."

A little tears rolled down Matthew's cheek. "Could you bring them tomorrow?"

"Of course. They will be very happy to see you. Sophie too."

"Sophie...," Matthew whispered. "Our baby... how's she?"

"She misses her father."

The doctor curled his lips upwards into a smile. "Go home with them."

Jane pressed a chaste kiss to Matthew's lips and ran a hand over his dark curls. "Get some sleep, Matt. I'll come tomorrow with the kids."

"Goodnight, love. I love you."

* * *

 

It was pouring rain. There were no cabs and Jane had forgotten her umbrella. She was soaking wet and even though she was carrying a bag with a coat, she was not going to put it on.

Jane had Sherlock's coat and she was going to Baker Street.

She rang the well and waited under the rain for two minutes or so until Sherlock opened the door. Jane knew Mrs Hudson was not at home then, she was probably visiting her sister. Or maybe Sherlock and Mycroft had sent her to the country so she wouldn't get hurt now that Moriarty's right-hand man was free on the streets.

"Jane."

She looked past him. "Can I come in?"

It took Sherlock a couple of seconds until he moved and let Jane get in.

She handed him the bag with his coat. "I just came to give you this."

"You're soaking," he eyed her. "You came here walking from the hospital."

She nodded. "Yeah, well, none of the cabs would take me," she said looking down at herself. "I washed it, don't worry."

"You didn't need to."

"It's OK."

"You are cold," Sherlock said, placing a hand on the small of her back and heading upstairs.

For some unknown reason, Jane just went upstairs with him. The flat was strangely in order. The living room was pristine, the telly was on on some news channel and Sherlock's violin was on the table.

"Sorry. You must've been busy."

Sherlock picked up an orange blanket off the sofa and handed it to her. "I'll get you some clothes."

"No, it's OK -"

"You'll fall sick," Sherlock said. "Come here."

For some unknown reason Jane followed Sherlock to his room, to the room that had been theirs.

It looked just like Jane remembered it. The bed, the bedside tables, the lamps, the wardrobe, everything was just like Jane remembered. They were in silence when Sherlock opened his wardrobe and handed her his blue dressing gown and an old nightdress that had been hers. It was cotton soft pink nightdress, long till her knees.

Jane held her breath when she remembered she had got that nightdress when she was pregnant, expecting Locky.

"I... I thought I had lost it," Jane whispered.

Sherlock walked to door. "It was here. I found it here when I..." He trailed off when he realised what it looked like. He had kept Jane's nightgown since he had found it and he had buried his face into it every time he missed her, every time he needed her. "I'll go and get... Mrs Hudson must have..."

"Thank you." Jane didn't know what to do.

As soon as Sherlock left the room and closed the door behind his back, Jane stripped off her soaked clothes and put on that nightdress. She couldn't help but look herself at the mirror and wrap herself with Sherlock's dressing gown.

She smiled.

Jane smiled when she looked herself in the mirror and remembered those days, when she was pregnant, expecting Locky, and still with Sherlock. They had been so happy those days. They had loved each other so much. They had laughed and cried in each other's arms. Jane couldn't believe all the things she had lived with Sherlock Holmes, with whom she considered was the love of her life, the one.

And now?

_Who was Sherlock now?_

* * *

Sherlock was pouring tea into two cups when Jane stepped into the kitchen, wearing that pink nightdress she used to wear when she was expecting Locky and wrapped with his blue dressing gown.

"Thank you," Jane said with a deep blush on her cheeks. She sipped the hot tea and frowned.

The tea was awful.

"What's this?"

"Mrs Hudson is not here to make tea."

Jane smiled. "I'll make some."

In silence, she put the kettle on and prepared the cups, the sugar and the milk. Neither of them said a word, until Sherlock broke the silence after a moment or so.

"Did you lie when you said you loved me?"

Jane didn't know what to say. She remained silent. Sherlock was standing next to her, his eyes on her.

Jane poured the tea into their cups. "Two sugars, right?"

"I love you Jane," he said softly. "I can't look at you wearing this," he said, placing his hands on her waist. "And remember you were wearing it the last night I made love to you," Sherlock leaned to whisper to her ear. "Can you remember it? Can you remember that night?"

Jane closed her eyes and nodded. Of course she remembered the last time they had made love. She remembered as if it had been yesterday, when Sherlock took her to bed, helped her to get off that nightdress and made love to her so softly, so lovingly, so slowly, making it last like forever. As if he had known it was going to be the last time they would be like that, so close together.

She turned to him. "Sherlock..."

The detective circled her waist with his arms. With a quick movement he lift her in the air and help her to sit on the counter, so their faces were at the same level. Sherlock pressed himself against the edge of the counter, between her thighs and soon his lips were brushing hers.

"I love you," he said, pressing his hands on her lower back and pulling her closer, glueing their bodies together.

They kissed.

She moaned into the kiss. "Sherlock...," she gasped, undoing the first buttons of his shirt. She felt the detective's lips on her neck, on her collarbones and his warm hands exploring her body.

"I need you," Sherlock said and kissed the skin under her ear before sucking her earlobe. "Let me feel you," he whispered and kissed her lips and started pulling at the straps of her bra. "Please, let me make _love_ to you."

Jane was blushing.

Then both remembered their first night together, the moment when both became one. They had explored their bodies so many times in the past, they had practically lost count. But this time, it was special. It was different because they felt as if it was their first time together. Jane closed her eyes when she felt the detective's warm, long hands on body again, his full lips pressing sweet kisses to her skin, his grey eyes focused on her, only on her and his body so close to hers.

Sherlock remembered how Jane guided him, how she, without explicitly saying it, guided him into her body and into her heart.

But now Jane forgot everything.

_Everything._

Jane forgot she was wearing an engagement ring that showed everyone she, somehow, belonged to Matthew Morstan. She forgot all about that baby girl she was raising with the doctor as if they were her parents. Jane forgot she had wanted to divorce Sherlock Holmes.

And Jane just did what she wanted to do, what she had longed for, and what she desired.

"Oh God, yes, Sherlock," she panted, her eyes closed. "Make me yours," She found his lips and let her hand travel down to his lower abdomen, to the hardness inside his trousers. "Make love to me. _Make love to me._ "


	30. I Need You

_"I was stupid to believe you would wait for me," Sherlock added._

_"I thought that if you were alive, you were somewhere else living your life. I thought you left us because you didn't love us any more. So I waited..." Jane's eyes fell on her engagement ring. "I waited until I gave up."_

 

* * *

Jane closed her eyes and took a deep breath when she felt Sherlock's impossible warm, long hands moving up and down her naked body, caressing every inch of her pale skin. She only closed her eyes in an attempt to only feel Sherlock through her skin every time he touched her, through her nose every time he bent down to kiss her, through her mouth when their mouths met and through ears every time Sherlock whispered sweet things.

Sherlock was over her. Their lips were dancing together, almost fighting, when Jane spread her legs and felt Sherlock's soft fingers exploring the most intimate place in her body. She shook underneath him and let out tiny moans of pleasure when Sherlock kissed those moans and ventured further inside her, experimenting and trying things and seeing his hands were doing nothing but pleasuring the woman he loved.

The detective's lips traveled down to her neck, pressing soft kisses to where he knew Jane was very sensitive. He was leaving a trail of kisses all over the pale skin of her neck and chest when he cupped one of her breasts and squeezed it softly, very softly and gently, almost like asking for permission to touch her, to kiss her there. Sherlock's hand migrated upwards to her waist, where he caressed the curves of her waist and took one of her pink nipples into his mouth.

"Mmmm," Jane panted when Sherlock sucked just slightly, very gently and caressed her belly with his warm, soft fingertips.

Jane's palms were on his shoulders when she moved them to his back and she felt scars. In the rush of the moment her brain was shut - she couldn't even think straight, coordinate words, think of anything else but in the man who was exploring her body with his mouth and his hands, not only pleasing himself with her body, but also pleasing her with his tongue and his fingers.

They rolled in the bed when they sat together, Jane straddling him and now they opened their eyes and their gazes met. Sherlock's hands were on her waist, keeping her very close to him when he felt her shaking as if she was cold.

"Jane..." He kissed her again and moved one hand to the back of her neck, so that way their mouths would never break apart. "I need you so much," he panted when he felt Jane rocking his hips and curling her delicate fingers around his dark curls, massaging his scalp and another hand on his hard member. "Touch me," he begged when he looked at Jane's closed eyes, her head bent to one side and then down, to her porcelain hand and her fingers around his cock. "Please, touch me. Please, don't stop touching me."

When Jane opened her eyes and looked into Sherlock's, when she looked into his dilated pupils that only made him look sexier than ever, Jane placed her hands on his shoulders and pushed him very softly until he was lying on his back on the bed, his legs hanging on the edge of the mattress and she bent down to press a chaste kiss to his lips when she knelt between his legs and took him with his mouth.

Sherlock bit his fists when he felt Jane's lips around his member, her tongue on the tip of his cock, her fingers curled around the shaft and massaging his thigh.

It was too much.

Too much after so long.

"Ja-" Sherlock bit back a moan when Jane swirled her tongue around. " _Jane_..."

Sherlock moaned, moaned and moaned. He looked up and their gazes met. She hollowed her cheeks, hummed and tasted a bit of precome before sucking him off very softly and returning to him.

They had said nothing until now. They had panted, moaned each other's name but they had said nothing.

Until now.

"I want to see you," Jane whispered to his ear and sucked his earlobe just slightly. "I want to see your face when you make love to me."

Sherlock nodded and helped her to lie on her back, in the middle of the bed, his bed, their bed, and looked into his eyes while moving her legs apart and make himself comfortable between them. "Yes," he said softly, squeezing her breasts, her nipples with his fingers, very, but very gently. "I want to make love to you like the first time, remember?" Jane nodded. "I want to make you feel special," he added and teased her entrance with his cock. "I need you. Please, let me."

Jane clung his legs behind his waist. "Yes, Sherlock," she panted. "I need you too," she kissed him. "You can't imagine how much I need you."

And then he sunk into her.

Sherlock thrust until he was completely and deep buried into Jane.

Jane opened her eyes and looked into his. She had caught her breath and she couldn't breath. Sherlock pressed a palm to her chest and felt her heart beating fast, so fast like for a moment he was afraid. He knew Jane had a weak heart. When Hamish was born she had a heart attack. Her heart had always been, since then, very weak.

"Love -"

Jane closed her eyes and let out a long sigh. "Sherlock..."

He kissed her lips once again before pulling out. " _Love_."

Her hands were on his back. She let his fingertips dance over his soft skin and every now and then, every time Sherlock was deep into her, she buried his nails into his skin.

And every time Jane did this, Sherlock knew what he was doing was right. And he continued thrusting softly, gently, slowly, very slowly as if Jane was a very fragile glass he ought to protect and keep from any damage.

"Sherlock please..."

He looked into her blue eyes. "Tell me."

" _Please._ "

" _Tell me_ ," Sherlock insisted, even though he knew what she wanted.

Jane bit her lip. "Don't be gentle. Please, Sherlock," she almost begged. "Just do it like..." She hissed. "Make me _yours_."

Sherlock smiled just slightly and thrust hard and fast into her, making the headboard hit the wall of his room.

"Ahhhh," Jane panted and buried her nails into the skin of his back. "Yes, Sherlock..."

He buried his face into her neck and still supporting his upper weight with his left hand flat on the mattress, he caressed her body with his right hand.

"Jane..."

"Hard, please," Jane begged, bringing his face close to hers again. "I've missed you... ahhhhh," she felt his lips on her again and his cock deep buried inside her again and again and again hitting her sweet, soft spot inside, making her see the starts. "God, Sherlock... yes, please don't stop."

Sherlock pressed soft kisses to her scarred shoulder. "I've missed you... I've missed your body," Sherlock's free hand migrated downwards and he started touching her, making her collapse of pleasure underneath him. "I've missed this," He kissed her lips again. "The way you feel."

"How do I feel?"

Their eyes met again. "Perfect. You feel so warm. You were made for me."

Jane remained silent.

Sherlock could feel Jane tensing. He continued thrusting deep and fast, sometimes swapping between soft and slow thrusts and deep and hard thrusts. He couldn't help but not be gentle at all. Jane had asked him so. But he couldn't help but look into Jane's eyes every time he was deep inside her, deep into her, when both were one. Just one.

Just like they used to be when three years ago.

Just like they should be now.

Because Jane might be with someone else, but she was his wife. Jane belonged to him and not because of the law. Jane was his because she was made for him. Sherlock didn't believe in destiny, fate. But he was sure they were meant for each other. They had always been meant for each other.

And Sherlock couldn't stop touching her, kissing her, feeling her. He couldn't stop pounding hard inside her until he felt both were on the edge.

"Jane, I'm going to..."

She nodded and cupped his face with her warm hands. "I want to see you. Please."

Both orgasmed together. Jane could feel Sherlock's warm seed inside her, filling her completely. Both shut their eyes and found their mouths. Still inside her, Sherlock embraced her, enveloping his long arms around her body, bringing her closer if it was ever possible and rested his forehead against hers.

"I love you," he whispered. "I love you, Jane. I love you so much," he kissed her lips and watched her turning to her side when he spooned her. "Please, tell me you love me."

Jane said nothing.

"You must love me," Sherlock said softly. "You do, Jane. Say it. Let it go. Just say it."

Jane kissed him back. She closed her eyes and kissed him for long minutes. They kissed as if their lives depended on that kiss. Neither of them wanted the kiss to end. But after so many years, after so much time apart, after so many tears, words spoken that hurt their hearts, and words still unspoken, both were in each other arms, kissing, pressing themselves together and just being one.

Neither of them thought they would be like this again: together, naked in one same bed, kissing. Living those moments they thought they would never have.

"Someone hurt you," Jane whispered, nuzzling the scars left on Sherlock's back. "What happened?"

Sherlock closed his eyes. "I was tortured."

"Why?"

Sherlock said nothing.

Jane cupped his face and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. "They hurt you because of me, right?"

It took Sherlock a couple of seconds to realise no matter how much he denied it, Jane would always know it. She could always tell when he lied. She wasn't a master of deduction like him or Mycroft, but she was clever.

And Jane knew him better than anyone.

"I had to keep you and our babies safe," Sherlock explained. "I'm sorry."

Jane frowned. "What for?"

"Because it took me three years. I tried to do it as fast as I could, but there were days..." Sherlock trailed off when he felt little tears filling in his eyes. "I was weak. If it hadn't been because of my weakness, I would have returned to you earlier," the detective said bitterly. "And I wouldn't have missed our children growing up... I wouldn't have lost you."

She bit her lip. But said nothing.

"I was stupid to believe you would wait for me," Sherlock added.

Jane cupped his face. "I waited for you, Sherlock. But..." She let some tears roll down her face. "I lost hopes you'd ever come back to me. To our children. There were days I thought you were alive, somewhere," Jane confessed. "I knew you weren't a fake. I knew it but... but I couldn't think why you had to kill yourself and leave me _alone_."

Sherlock kissed her tears.

"Then I thought that if you were alive, you were somewhere else living your life. I thought you left us because you didn't love us any more. So I waited..." Jane's eyes fell on her engagement ring. "I waited until I gave up."

Sherlock held her hand and laced their fingers. He looked at her engagement ring and kissed her lips. "Leave him," he gasped. "Leave him and come back to me," Jane closed her eyes, when she felt Sherlock over her body again, between her thighs and kissing her neck. "Come back to me and be mine forever. We can raise our children together," Sherlock sunk into her again. "You're my wife, Jane. You belong to me. You know you want me."

"Sherlock -"

"I don't care that..." Sherlock thrust hard into her. "I don't care you were his."

Jane threw her head back. "Sherlock..."

"Be mine again. Please Jane," the detective whispered as he thrust hard, and hit her spot. "Come back to me and be mine forever."

* * *

Jane opened her eyes and yawned. She couldn't help but feel quite comfy where she was: in a warm bed, covered with a heavy duvet and in the arms of-

" _God_ ," she whispered when she looked down at the hand on her bare stomach and when she felt Sherlock's dark curls on the curve of her neck and his soft snoring.

Carefully, Jane slid out of the bed and bent down to pick up her underwear. She covered herself with Sherlock's blue dressing gown and decided it was time to leave when she stood on the doorway and turned to see Sherlock's sleeping form on the bed. He looked so calm, so happy. Sherlock looked like an angel.

Jane returned to bed and pressed chaste kisses to Sherlock's bare back, to the scars on his skin and finally, she pressed a very soft kiss to his lips.

"I'm sorry, Sherlock."

* * *

 

Jane went back to her and Matthew's house. She had a quick shower before dressing herself and going back to her ex-in-laws to pick up the boys and take them to hospital to see Matthew.

When she looked at the pictures all around the house, and at her engagement ring, Jane couldn't help but feel guilty, almost dirty, ungrateful, a liar. While Matthew was in hospital, almost fighting for his life, she was somewhere else having sex with her still husband, Sherlock Holmes.

God, the entire situation was hellish.

The doctor had taken a bullet - _a bullet_ for her and she ended up at her husband's house, having sex with him, kissing him, doing all the things she thought she would always do with Matthew.

The desire burnt her skin. The need of having him, having Sherlock Holmes was pure carnal, it had to be. Because she loved Matthew... she really loved him.

Did she?

Jane pressed a hand to her flat stomach and remembered that just a few weeks ago she was carrying his child, Matthew's child. She was about to give him a baby, a child - she was about to start a new family. She was, actually. They were so close to getting married and adopting Sophia. Jane pressed a hand to her face and asked herself what she had done: because she didn't know what she wanted.

Love or sex.

* * *

Sherlock curled his fingers on the sheets and opened his eyes when he felt the other side of the bed cold and empty.

Jane was nowhere to be seen.

The detective looked at his surroundings: Jane's clothes were gone. There was nothing that indicated she was in the flat. Nothing. But yet Sherlock knew she had been there. It had not been a dream. It was real. Jane was at his place, she had gone to give him his coat and she stayed.

And they made love.

Jane was his again.

Sherlock closed his eyes and inhaled the scent left on the pillows, Jane's scent. With eyes closed, Sherlock remembered touching Jane again, kissing her, exploring her body with his hands, with his lips, with his skin. The detective remembered undressing her, kissing Jane's lips as hard as he could, enough to leave her thin pink lips bruised and he remembered sinking into her hard, soft, fast, slow.

Sherlock closed his eyes and remembered all the sounds Jane had made for him. He knew how many times she panted his name, how many times she buried her nails into the skin of his back, how many times she kissed him, the moment when she took him with her mouth and when she begged him for more and more and more.

_"I thought that if you were alive, you were somewhere else living your life. I thought you left us because you didn't love us any more. So I waited... I waited until I gave up."_

_"Leave him. Leave him and come back to me... Come back to me and be mine forever. We can raise our children together. You're my wife, Jane. You belong to me. You know you want me."_

_"Sherlock -"_

_"I don't care that... I don't care you were his."_

_"Sherlock..."_

_"Be mine again. Please Jane. Come back to me and be mine forever."_

Sherlock's eyes fell on the empty side of his bed when he realised Jane never replied to his 'I love you's'.

And Jane was not going to leave Matthew Morstan.

* * *

"Hamish, Locky, I need you to promise me something," Jane said to her children outside Matthew's room. "Matt is very ill and he needs you to behave and to be quiet, okay?"

Locky tried to get to the door. "Want Matt, Mummy!"

When Jane opened the door, Matthew was sitting on his bed, resting his back on some pillows and smiling at he four of them weakly. "Hello, my boys."

Locky was the first to run to the doctor's arms. He practically jumped to the bed and threw his little arms around Matthew's neck. The doctor hissed in pain just a bit, but he didn't mind when he felt Locky's sloppy lips on his cheek and his little hands on his neck.

"Miss'd you, Matt," Locky whispered.

Jane ran to the bed and tried to take Locky off the doctor's form. "Locky -"

"It's okay," Matthew assured her whist rubbing Locky's back softly. "I missed you too, Locky. I missed you so much."

Jane smiled at them. Locky had always been very fond of Matthew since the doctor had been his only father figure. Whilst Hamish was very fond of their uncle Mycroft, Locky was very fond, but very fond of Doctor Morstan. Since he was a very little baby he never liked Mycroft. But when Matthew appeared in their lives, when he was only a few months old, almost a year old, Locky fell in love with Matthew. Matthew helped Locky to walk his first steps, he was present when the toddler said his first word and he had been like a father to him.

So when Jane explained Locky Matthew was very ill, Locky wouldn't stop crying every night, demanding Matthew's presence, asking Jane to bring back Matt so he would feed him his bottle or read him a story before going to bed. Then, it wasn't surprising to see Locky hugging Matthew and telling him with his own words how much he had missed him.

"Mummy say sick," Locky said softly. "Want 'ome."

The doctor pressed a kiss to his dark curls, that somehow, matched with his own. "Yes, I'm a bit ill so I'll have to stay here for a while, little poppet. But I'll go back home soon."

"Now?"

"Nope, not now."

Locky buried his face into his chest. "Why?"

"Because my tummy hurts," Matthew explained, faking a reassuring smile.

Hamish sat with Jane and kissed the doctor's cheek. "Hi, Matt! Are you feelin' well?"

"Hello big poppet. Yes, I'm better now," the doctor smiled at him, and then at Jane and at the little baby girl in her arms.

Jane bent down to kiss his cheek. "Hello."

"I want to hold our daughter," Matthew said extending his arms. "Please, I need to hold her."

Matthew held baby Sophie in his arms and pressed lots of kisses to her forehead and cheeks. Sophie was wearing a little pink dress and a matching coat and hat, which Matthew remembered getting with Jane a few weeks ago. "You look so beautiful. Like a little princess," Matthew said lovingly to the baby in his arms. "You're my little princess."

"How are you feeling?" Jane asked.

The doctor faked a smile. "I'm fine. Now I understand why patients hate to stay here in hospital," he joked. "I couldn't sleep much. Did you have a good night, darling?"

Shit.

"Yes- yes."

"You went home, mummy?" Hamish asked.

"Yes."

Matthew frowned. "You went home?"

"Yes, I went to get some clothes..." Jane lied. "Everything was a mess and... I want to go back home."

"I think you should stay with Elizabeth and Richard. At least until things get... calm."

Jane faked a smile. "Yeah but... I can't get used to the maids and Elizabeth insists on getting nannies for them and Hamish has to go to school..."

"Okay," Matthew nodded. "Could Mycroft get some security?"

Jane decided to change the subject.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine. But I need to go home with you," Matthew said with a very sad expression on his face. "I miss waking up next to you, preparing the boys their breakfast," he looked down at the baby girl in his arms. "I miss my little princess too."

Jane rubbed Matthew's arm softly. "I _need_ you to go back home."

"Everything's going to be okay, my little girl."

* * *

 

Two days later Jane and the children were back home. Mycroft agreed to set up surveillance and security close to their house and guards on them, so Hamish could go back to school and Jane to work on the hospital.

Since that night, Jane and Sherlock never talked again.

But it was a Thursday when she left Locky and Sophie with Mrs Hudson when they met again. Neither of them said a word. Jane was leaving and Sherlock had just got into the building. His eyes lit up when he deduced Jane had just left their younger son with their landlady and that he would be able to see him.

"Jane -"

"I'm late for work."

Sherlock placed an arm on the small of her back, pulling her closer and bent down and whispered to her ear. "I need you."

"Sherlock -"

They kissed.

"You only work five hours but you told Mrs Hudson you'll be back at four," Sherlock said rapidly, looking at his watch. It was eight am. "She told you she's taking Locky and Sophie with her to her knitting club," He sucked her earlobe. "I'll pick you up from work."

"No..."

Sherlock kissed her neck. "Jane..."

"Let me go... let me go before I regret this," Jane whispered. "I'll...," she hesitated. "I'll come back soon."

"Come back, I need you."

Jane kissed him one more time. "God, I need you too, Sherlock. _I need you so much_."


	31. The Lies We Tell

_Matthew cupped her face and looked into her blue eyes, then at her thin lips, her flushed cheeks and caressed her soft skin with his thumbs. "Remember when I told you I was able to see your soul through your eyes?"_

_Jane nodded, smiling._

_"Well, I don't like what I see."_

* * *

It happened again, and again and again. Not every day, but enough times to realise it had become a sort of addiction. It was so easy to hide and keep it from everyone- _everyone_ , including Mrs Hudson who was downstairs.

Suddenly, they had made love in every possible place within the flat, not because they were adventurous or because they wanted to try new things, but because sometimes they couldn't even make it to the bed. Once Jane had climbed the stairs, Sherlock opened the door for her and their mouths would collide in a deep, passionate kiss. Clothes would be left forgotten on the floor, and then the sofa, one of their chairs, the kitchen table, the desk, the floor, every possible place within 221 B Baker Street would do just fine.

And when Mrs Hudson was downstairs, it was hard to keep quiet and bite back the moans of pleasure, specially when the only thing Sherlock wanted from Jane was to hear her begging for more, panting and moaning his name and doing all sorts of noises for him.

Their brains didn't work well during their meetings. They were passionate, sometimes wild, sometimes slow. They made love in every possible position and in every possible way: softly, slow, fast, hard. Their minds seemed to disappear, vanish from inside them and they just simply did want they wanted. They loved each other. Both forgot the landlady was downstairs, that Matthew Morstan was in hospital recovering after taking a bullet for Jane, that their children were at their grandparents and that to everyone else they were merely an almost divorced couple who had issues, who were not getting on well and who were fighting for their children.

But quite the opposite in fact. Within the walls of 221 B Baker Street they were still a couple.

Generally after the sex Sherlock would smoke a cigarette and Jane would drink a cup of tea. She covered her naked body with Sherlock's blue dressing gown and she put the kettle on.

"Tea?"

"Please."

And that was all.

When her cup was empty, Sherlock watched her getting dressed, brushing her hair, apply some perfume on her wrist, neck and clothes and getting her coat to leave again.

"Stay."

She merely kissed his lips and left.

Only to repeat the process maybe the following day, or maybe in a few days.

One afternoon, they were lying naked together in Sherlock's bed when he laced their fingers and asked her why after making love, she would go and see Doctor Morstan.

"Because he needs me."

"I need you too."

Jane started to get dressed. "He'll leave hospital soon."

"We can still -"

"We can't," Jane cut him off. "I can't do this any more."

Sherlock knew what she was thinking. He had already deduced it.

"You pity him. Poor Doctor Morstan, who took a bullet for you and almost died. Poor Doctor Morstan, who gave you his house and everything he owns for you and _my_ children," Sherlock said sarcastically. "Just because you carried his child it doesn't give him the right to own you forever. I gave you _two_."

"Don't say that."

"It is the truth," Sherlock said firmly. "You pity him," the detective walked towards her and hugged her from behind. "Leave him and come back to me."

Jane shook her head. "Is not easy, Sherlock."

"Why?"

"Because..." Jane trailed off and her eyes fell on the bed where they had just had sex. "I can't leave him."

"You don't owe him anything!"

Jane turned to see him. "You don't understand, Sherlock. Matthew is... he's very important to me."

Sherlock stopped breathing.

"I want to be with you, God -" she let out a long sigh. "I've been coming here for the past weeks almost every day," she said bitterly. "you won't understand."

"Tell me."

"Sherlock -"

The detective's eyes were on hers. " _Tell me_."

"I miss him," Jane looked away and wiped a tear off her face. "My life is not the same without him," she walked one step backwards. "And every night I ask God to keep him safe. He's the father of my daughter."

Sherlock remained silent.

"If Sophie hadn't appeared... I can't think that, but if she hadn't appeared," Jane said, cupping Sherlock's face. "I would have returned to you."

"And _I'm_ the father of our children! I'm Hamish and Locky's father!" Sherlock said angrily. "And you're with him because of that baby?"

Jane shook her head. "No."

"You love him."

"Sherlock -"

"You love him," the detective repeated. "No. You _don't_ love him. You're confused."

Jane felt Sherlock pushing her against the wall. "No, Sherlock -"

"He reminds you of your father," Sherlock deduced. "He's kept you by his side using your weakness - your father. When I faked my death you were alone, not even Greg could help you," Sherlock kissed her and then looked into her eyes. "You're with him because you think he's the only one who can protect you. I can protect you. I _can_ protect you and our children."

She pushed him off softly and picked up her bag. "I know you can."

"What has he given you that I didn't?" Sherlock asked sadly, bitterly. "What do I need to do? _Tell me_ , love."

Jane shook her head. "There's nothing you have to do, Sherlock."

"Then why are you going back to him? Stay with me."

"I want you, Sherlock. But I _need_ him."

* * *

Doctor Morstan was trying to concentrate on the book in his hands when he realised no matter how many times he read the first lines of the first chapter, he didn't want to read. He felt desperate, he wanted to go back home with Jane and the children so badly. He had grown tired of that bed in which he had been lying on for weeks now and he missed his big bed.

He looked at the watch hanging on the wall and frowned. Visiting hours had started more than an hour ago and Jane was nowhere to be seen.

"Doctor Morstan?" said a nurse stepping into the room and handing him a small parcel. "This was left for you."

"Oh. Who left it?"

The nurse shrugged. "Don't know, sir. I've just started my shift."

Matthew smiled at the young nurse. He noticed she was inexperienced, and this was probably her first job after graduating.

"Okay. Thank you. Er... have you seen my wife around?"

The nurse shook her head. "No, sir. Is there anything you need?"

"No, thank you."

Once Doctor Morstan was left alone, he put his book aside and looked at the envelope closely. It had his name written on it, but there wasn't any other things that could tell him who the sender was, where it came from or what it was about.

Just after opening the envelope, Matthew found found pictures of Jane leaving Baker Street. Printed at the bottom were the dates and the time those pictures had been taken. There was a space of one or two days between pictures, and all of them have been taken at the same hour, just after lunch time, around two pm. Matthew frowned, confusedly because he knew, and because Jane had told him, that she worked from eight in the morning to four pm.

Then what was she doing at two pm in Baker Street?

No. Maybe she was - Jane was not seeing Sherlock. Not like that. No.

No.

Jane would never cheat on him. Matthew was sure of it. He didn't need to ask her, he would never believe in those things. Matthew believed in Jane and in her _'I love you's_ ', in her kisses, her touches, her sincere smile.

And there was a note inside the envelope.

**_Look at what she is up to.  
_ **

And there was one last picture: it was a picture of Jane and Sherlock at the doorstep of 221 Baker Street, _kissing._

Matthew felt his heart sinking.

* * *

"Sherlock, I have to go -"

Jane felt Sherlock's strong arms pushing her until she fell on the bed. His long, warm fingers ripped the buttons of her shirt and then he attacked her mouth.

"Sher-"

"You're not going anywhere," he said huskily to her ear.

She kissed him back, and then pulled her mouth apart. "No, Sherlock... please."

"You don't want to go. You know it."

"No, God, no."

"Stay with me."

Jane nodded. "Yes."

* * *

Matthew wiped the tears off his face and stared at the engagement ring on his hand. He hated the whole situation. He hated Sherlock Holmes. He hated being in hospital. He hated the idea of Jane with someone else. It didn't matter it was Sherlock. Matthew would have been angry if it had been with any other man.

But it was Sherlock Holmes.

And somehow, that made it _worse_.

Five minutes before the visiting hours finished, someone opened the door and got in.

It was Jane.

"Hey."

The doctor said nothing.

"Sorry, I had to cover another doctor," Jane lied. She smiled whilst sitting next to him. "how are you feeling today?" she asked, taking a look at the chart, reading the medicines that had been administrated to her boyfriend that day and at the machines monitoring his heart and lungs. "Everything looks in order."

"You forgot to bring me my book, didn't you?"

Jane sighed and closed her eyes when she remembered Matthew had asked her to bring him his favourite book to read. "Yes. I'm sorry, Matt."

"It's OK. I imagine you must be busy," he said, not looking at her at all. "But don't worry, I got myself quite entertained today."

Her eyes fell on the envelope next to his bed. "What's that?"

"A friend sent me a letter."

"A letter?"

"Yes," Matthew turned to her and Jane noticed his eyes were bloodshot. "Oh, nothing of importance, actually."

Something was not right.

"Matt, are you OK?"

"Why you ask?"

"Well..." Jane placed a hand over his. "You look pale, and your eyes... what's wrong?"

Matthew cupped her face and looked into her blue eyes, then at her thin lips, her flushed cheeks and caressed her soft skin with his thumbs. "Remember when I told you I was able to see your soul through your eyes?"

Jane nodded, smiling.

"Well, I don't like what I see."

Her smile disappeared from her face.

"Matt -"

"There are things you're not telling me, my dear," Matthew said softly. "We are a couple, remember? There shouldn't be lies or secrets between us."

Jane's blue eyes were as wide as saucers. She felt her heart pounding fast inside her chest. And Matthew's piercing blue eyes on her, his usually warm hands were cold on her face, but Jane felt them burning her skin.

He _knew_.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"My little girl... it doesn't matter now. I'm going home soon," Matthew said, and pressed a chaste kiss to her lips. "We'll be a family again..." the doctor started to unfasten the first buttons of Jane's shirt and kissed her collarbones. "And you'll be mine, won't you? Of course you will. Because you love me, don't you? Tell me you love me. It would be indecent, Jane..."

Jane closed her eyes when he felt his hands on her body. "Matthew -"

"It would be indecent if you didn't, Jane," he sucked the white skin on her breasts. "I love you so much. I gave my life for you..."

"Yes, I know," she gasped. "I love you."

"That's a good girl."

Jane stepped back and straightened her shirt. "Matthew... we can't."

"Why?"

"This is a hospital!"

He laughed. "And?"

"A nurse can come in!"

"What happened to you?" Matthew asked jokingly. "If my memory doesn't fail me, we made more than this once, remember?"

Jane straightened her shirt. "It was different. It was your office and the door had a key."

"I wonder what happened to you. You've always been so... adventurous."

She blushed, but remained silent.

"Once I get back home we'll make up for lost time, won't be?"

A nurse knocked the door and opened the door softly. "I'm sorry, but visiting hours are over."

"Ah, yes," Jane put her coat on and picked up her bag. "I'll see you tomorrow, Matt," she kissed his lips and held his hand. "Good night."

"Good night to you too," he whispered. "Get some rest. You look like you need it."

Jane faked a smile and left.

* * *

 

It was almost three pm when Jane left Bart's hospital and found Matthew waiting for her outside, leaning on his car, holding a flowers bouquet in one hand and smiling at her.

"Hello, my little girl."

"What are you doing here?"

"I told you I was going home soon, remember?" The doctor said, kissing her lips and placing both hands on her waist. "I talked to Dr Jenkins and he said I could leave."

Jane faked a smile. "But... is it OK? I mean, you received blood transfusions. You should've stayed at least one more week in hospital."

"But darling, it looks like you don't want me to go back home."

"No!" Jane smiled. "Don't twist my words, Matthew. We're both doctors. You know what I mean."

"I know. But I'm fine, I promise," he smiled and opened the door of the car for her.

* * *

Sherlock looked at his watch. Jane didn't say whether she would go or not that day, but he was clever and he knew she was going back to him that day.

But he kept staring at the door, waiting for her to kiss her, undress her and made Jane his again.

**Doctor Morstan left hospital today - MH**

Sherlock ignored that text.

**He knows - MH**

**Does he? - SH**

**He was sent pictures of you and Jane - MH**

And Sherlock didn't need to ask, wonder, think where Jane was know. And who sent Doctor Morstan those pictures.

* * *

"Let's go to Italy."

"Italy?"

"Yes," Matthew nodded. "You'd always wanted to go to Venice. We can go next week."

"But Hamish's got school, I have to start looking for nurseries for Locky and -"

"Actually, I was thinking we could go alone," the doctor suggested. "Like a honeymoon."

"Who'd look after the kids?"

"Well, they can stay with their father. And Mrs Hudson can look after Sophie."

"I don't know, Matt."

He kissed her. "Do say yes, love. It'd be good for us," Matthew said, kissing her neck and sucking her earlobe. "Think about it. An entire week alone..."

Jane pushed him off softly. "Matthew... we can't."

"Why? It'd be good for us and for the kids. They'll spend more time with their father."

Jane knew Matthew was right: a sort of honeymoon alone was what she needed to feel that thing she had always felt for the doctor. She needed to feel that closeness, that love, that thing that filled her heart and made it beat faster every time Matthew was around. And she also knew it would be good for Locky and Hamish to spend more time with Sherlock. An entire week with him would make them closer.

"Yeah. Yeah, I think you're right."

"That's a yes, then?"

Jane nodded, faking a smile. "Yes."

They talked about all sorts of things concerning their trip, about Jane's work at Bart's, about Greg's new girlfriend, about the plans they had for after their trip and about the children when Matthew remembered a comment Hamish made a few days ago.

"Hamish said Sherlock's been picking him up from school."

"Yeah. He's been picking him up when I was working."

Matthew nodded. "I've got to thank Sherlock. He's been quite helpful since, well - since this happened."

Jane felt something inside her chest. "He's been quite helpful, yeah."

"How's your relationship going?"

"What?"

"Your relationship with him," Matthew repeated innocently.

Jane panicked. "What d'you mean?"

"Well, um, I was just wondering if you two are, you know, getting on well?" Matthew asked. "I know I'm not Sherlock's favourite person and it must be, er, hard for him to see you with me."

That was the moment when Jane sighed relieved. For a moment she panicked and thought Matthew knew about her and Sherlock, about their encounters for the past weeks where they didn't necessarily 'talked'.

"No, he's... we're fine," Jane lied.

Well, it was not a lie. They were fine. In their own way.

Matthew smiled at her and laced their fingers. "OK."

But Jane didn't know Matthew knew about them. About her and Sherlock.

"I love you, darling."

Jane smiled. "I love you too."

* * *

 

Sherlock rang the bell and Jane opened the door. The detective looked at her from head to toes and noticed she looked tired. And the first thing Sherlock's eyes caught were the love bites on her neck.

They said nothing. Jane opened the door and let him in.

Locky was in the living room playing with his toys. He turned to see his daddy, but Locky ignored Sherlock completely and continued playing with his toys. The detective tried to hug his little son, but the toddler hardly looked at him. "Hello Locky."

The toddler ignored him.

It hurt him.

"Locky, say hello to your father."

Nothing.

"Locky, say hello to your father."

Sherlock shook his head. "Let him be."

"He's angry," Jane said softly.

"It's expected, I suppose. It is the first time you're leaving him."

"He knows," Jane whispered. "He knows about us."

"Hmm."

"He's said anything."

Sherlock held her hand. "Obviously."

"It's scares me, Sherlock."

"Why?"

Jane bit her lip. "He's so calm."

They heard the front door being opened. It was Hamish and Matthew. The doctor was carrying some shopping bags and he looked slightly pale.

"Hi, dad!"

Sherlock hugged his son. "Hello, Hamish."

"Is it true we're gonna stay with you for a whole week?"

The detective nodded. "Yes."

"Are we gonna make experimens?"

"It's 'experiments'," Sherlock corrected Hamish. "And yes, we'll make experiments."

Hamish smiled. "Can we do the one with oil and water?"

"Of course."

"Hamish, why don't you go and help your mother with the shopping bags?"

The toddler ran to the kitchen with Jane, leaving the two men alone.

"I wanted to thank you for helping Jane with the children while I was hospital," Matthew said taking Sophie in his arms. "She said you'd helped her."

Sherlock said nothing.

The doctor sat next to Locky with baby Sophie in his arms and Sherlock watched how Locky snuggled up to him and pressed a sloppy kiss to the baby girl. "Want stay."

"I'm sorry, Locky. But you're going with your daddy."

"Want stay."

Jane appeared behind them. "I can't convince him to go with you," she said, her eyes focused on Sherlock.

"Locky, we're gonna make experiments and play with daddy and go to the park!" said Hamish, trying to convince his little brother.

But Locky was a very stubborn baby. "No! Want stay with Matt!"

Matthew smiled fondly to the boy. "Listen, Locky. You have to go with your daddy today, okay? You'll have lots of fun with him and your brother."

The toddler seemed to consider the idea.

"Go with your daddy. I promise we'll be back in a few days, okay? And I'll get you lots of presents for you and your brother," said the doctor and with that, Locky agreed to put his coat on and go with daddy Sherlock and Hamish.

The doctor smiled at him, but inwardly, he was smiling because Locky preferred him over Sherlock.

If Jane had been cheating on him with Sherlock, then now Matthew was furious.

And now he was willing to fight Sherlock Holmes.

Matthew watched Jane giving Sherlock the little boy's bags. And he even spotted a little smile on her face. He had seen them talking before, and both had always been cold towards each other. As far as Doctor Morstan remembered, Jane had been avoiding Sherlock. However, now they seemed to be perfectly fine.

"Boys, say good bye to Matthew and Sophie."

Hamish kissed Sophie and Matthew's cheek. "Bye Matt! Bye Sophie!"

"Bye bye Matt," Locky said bitterly, pressing lots of kissed to the doctor's face. "Bye bye Sophie," this time he pressed a little kiss to the baby's forehead. "Love you."

Matthew caressed the boy's dark curls and hugged him tightly, aware that Sherlock's eyes were on them. "Good bye, my little poppet. Be a good boy to your father, OK?"

"Yes!"

Once they were gone, they finished packing their things and Sophie's. They were just about to leave when the doctor hugged Jane from behind and pressed a soft kiss to her neck.

"I was at the shop with Hamish when I ran into one of my old patients. A twelve year old boy now," Matthew said bitterly. "And I remembered him when he was merely a few days old."

"Did he recognise you?"

"Yes. And you know what?"

"Hmm?"

Matthew's hand migrated to her stomach. "I thought: what will my life be like in ten years? Have you thought about it, darling?"

"No."

"I do. I do it almost every day," the doctor confessed. "I think of us together. Of us going to see the boys playing football or rugby. Sometimes I think of Sophie being a beautiful girl like her mother, like _you_ ," Matthew's hand moved underneath her jumper. "And I also think of us raising one or two more children. I like to imagine what they would look like. I want them to have your eyes and your soul."

Jane turned to face him. "Matthew..."

"I can't wait to have those children, Jane. I'm tired of dreaming," he kissed her lips. "I can't wait to touch you and feel our baby kicking inside you."

Jane knew that Matthew lost consciousness after being shot and when he woke up he couldn't remember she had been kidnapped and that he, Sherlock and Greg had been looking for her desperately.

It seemed like Matthew had also forgotten their talk about babies.

"Matthew, you don't remember our talk, do you?"

"What talk?"

Jane cupped his face. "We've talked about this, Matt. About babies."

"Kathy and Benedict."

Katherine and Benedict were the names she had chosen with Sherlock years ago.

She nodded. "We agreed to wait."

"Did we?"

"Yes."

"But..." the doctor looked confused. "I don't understand. I... I remember we were trying for one and we went to the see your doctor."

Jane looked away. "Matt..."

Just when the doctor looked into his eyes, he understood there was something else. Jane was keeping something from him. Matthew knew her from head to toes, he knew all about her.

Or that's what he thought.

Because Matthew was convinced Jane was lying.

Again.

"There's something you're not telling me..."

"Matt."

"There's something _else_ you're not telling me," he repeated.

Jane blinked and tears started to roll down her face.

"I had a miscarriage," Jane confessed.

And Matthew felt himself falling apart. His whole world was shattering.

"You had... you had a miscarriage?" Matthew asked desperately, struggling to make sense of it all.

Jane nodded silently.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want to hurt you -"

"No," Matthew said angrily. "I want you to tell me the truth. Stop lying! Why didn't you tell me?" the doctor yelled.

Jane remained silent.

" _TELL ME!_ "

His yelling startled, scared Jane. They had never argued like this. They had their arguments, their own discussions and they had fought their own fights as a couple. But Jane had never seen Matthew as angry and hurt as he was now.

And she knew it was her fault.

"It was so little, Matt. So little," Jane whispered. "I saw it. I didn't tell you because I didn't want to hurt you. I didn't want you to suffer again," Jane took a deep breath and looked into his eyes. "I can't have children."

"So you lied saying you needed time."

"No, Matt -"

"You could have told me from the beginning, why didn't you?" Matthew asked, tears rolling down his face.

Jane tried to reach out his hand, but the doctor walked some steps backward. "I didn't want to hurt you!"

"And you lied to me" Matthew hissed angrily.

"No, I didn't -"

"Yes you did!" Matthew yelled. "It was my child too! I had the right to know about its existence! I had the right to know we had a baby... I had the right to know it died."

Jane walked towards him and rested her head against his chest. "Matthew, I'm sorry."

The doctor pushed her off him. His hands curled into fists and his blue eyes darkened. "It all makes sense now."

"Matt -"

"Now I understand how this works: you two faked the kidnapping to get me killed, right? To get me out your way."

Jane frowned. "What?"

"You think I don't know you two have been fucking behind my back while I was in hospital?"

"No, let me explain -"

Matthew walked to the living room and took Sophia in his arms. "What are you going to explain? Tell me something I don't know, please," the doctor said sarcastically, but hurt. "All I know is that I got shot for you, Jane, because I _love_ you. I almost died. You can't imagine what I felt, thinking I'd never see you or the children again," Matthew said bitterly, as tears rolled down his face. "I fight for my life and you go and sleep with him behind my back. You _betrayed_ me."

Jane was crying. "I wasn't thinking, Matt. I'm sorry, please forgive me -"

"No," Matthew shook his head and picked up his keys. "I thought it was a mistake, something I could just pretend never happened," he walked to the door, with Jane close behind him. "But I can't." he said, taking Sophie's nappy bag with him.

"Matt don't go! Please, don't take our daughter -"

Matthew opened the door and turned to Jane. Sophie started crying in his arms and neither of the adults knew what was going to be of their lives any more.

"She's _my_ daughter!" he said angrily. "You never wanted her. The only person you care about is _him_!"

Jane shook her hand. He tried to touch Sophie, but Matthew pulled her away from her touch. "Matthew you know that's not true!"

"Yes, it is!" he opened the door of the car and placed a very crying Sophie on her special seat.

Jane ran behind him, apologising and begging for him to let her explain, but Matthew refused to hear her.

"I don't understand you," Matthew said bitterly, with sadness in his eyes. "I gave you everything, Jane. _Everything_. I treated you like a queen. I worked and worked just to give you and the children the best, so you could finish med school and become a doctor, so could make your dreams come true," he gasped. "I raised and I love those boys as if they were mine," Matthew's eyes darkened. "And you _want_ him. He, who almost killed you and Hamish," the doctor whispered.

"Matthew please, don't leave me. I _need_ you, please."

The doctor shook his head. "You don't need me, Jane. You never did. Now I know Mycroft was right," Matthew said, remembering that episode years ago, when in the early days of his relationship with Jane, Mycroft 'kidnapped' him to tell him to stay away from her. "I never meant anything to you. I was only a replacement."

"Matt -"

Matthew got into his car and drove away with Sophie. The tears were clouding his eyes, and he had no idea of what to do now.

And Jane was standing in the middle of the road, watching Matthew driving away, leaving her alone, taking their baby away from her.

* * *


	32. Hypnotising Eyes

_"You are brothers."_ _  
_

_"But why we look so different?" Hamish insisted. "Marty's got a little brother and he looks a lot like him and I don't look like Locky," the boy's eyes fell on Locky's dark hair and eyes. "And why Locky looks like you and I don't? It's not fair, dad. I wanna look like you."_

_"Brothers don't necessarily look alike. For example Mycroft and myself," Sherlock said. "He's my brother and we're different physically speaking."_

* * *

Sherlock was heating some food Mrs Hudson had kindly prepared for him and the children when he heard his children talking in the living room. Their whispers were soft, almost incoherent. But Sherlock could listen to them perfectly.

"Want home, Mish," Locky whispered. "Want Mummy and Matt."

"But they are in Italy, Locky and that's very very very far from 'ere. That's what Matt said."

The detective felt Locky's cracking voice, as if he was about to cry soon. "Not want stay 'ere."

"Why, Locky?" Hamish asked curiously. "Daddy's funny and we're gonna go to the park!"

"'m not like Daddy."

"Why? He's good to us."

Sherlock turned and noticed Locky was burying his face into his big brother's chest. "Want Mummy."

When they sat down for lunch, Sherlock was ready to help Locky to eat but the little boy rejected him. So taking his own time, the two year old boy finished his lunch, ate all the vegetables on his plate and even burped.

"Sowry."

"What do you want to do?"

Locky remained silent.

"We nap after lunch cos Matt says it's good," Hamish said after finishing his own food. "I'm sleepy, Dad. Can I go to sleep?"

"Of course. Do you want to sleep in my bed?"

"Yes!"

Sherlock turned to Locky. "And you, Locky?"

"Up," said the toddler. He managed to get down his chair and went to his room upstairs.

Sherlock took Hamish to his room and put him to bed and read the boy his favourite tale. The detective enjoyed every second with Hamish and remembered when he was a toddler just like Locky who liked to walk all around the flat, make a mess of his experiments, climb the chairs, take naps with him and go to the park while the waited for Jane after her classes.

They always had that special connection, Sherlock and Hamish, almost since Jane told him she was pregnant. Hamish always kicked every time he was around, and when they met, Hamish loved him as if he had always been his daddy. And Sherlock loved Hamish as if he were his biological child, even though he wasn't.

But it hurt the detective to see his little son, Locky, rejecting his touch, avoiding his eyes and saying he didn't like him. Sherlock knew he hadn't been a present father to neither of his children, but not because he wanted to, but because he _had_ to. Sherlock had to protect them, keep them safe and alive. That's why he had to fake his own death and leave Jane alone when she was pregnant and two months from having their second child.

Once Hamish was sleeping, Sherlock went upstairs with Locky.

The boy was on his own little bed curled into a ball and crying, silently. Sherlock walked to the bed and sat next to Locky and found silent tears falling down his pink cheeks.

It hurt.

"Why are you crying?" Sherlock asked softly, caressing the boy's dark curls which were like his own. "What's wrong, son?"

Locky said nothing.

Sherlock knew Locky was a very quite child. Jane told him he had always been so and that she had got him checked up by doctors, but they had found nothing. They said he wasn't going deaf or mute and that he was only very quiet and that someday he would talk and be a lively kid. But Sherlock knew Locky wasn't silent because of that, because it was his nature, but because he was suffering.

The detective wiped the tears off his son's face. "Do you want to talk about it, Locky?"

The boy shook his head.

No.

"Do you want to sleep?"

He nodded and turned to face the wall.

Sherlock covered Locky's little body with a duvet. "Can I sleep here with you?"

Locky remained silent.

The detective lie next to him and cuddled the little boy. Locky did not reject his touch, but Sherlock felt how stiff and reluctantly Locky moved so he would lie next to him.

Sherlock looked down and met his son's grey, sad eyes.

It hurt.

"I used to hold Hamish like this when he was your age," Sherlock whispered.

Hamish pressed his little hands to the detective chest, a clear sign he didn't want to be hugged and be as close as they were now.

"OK," The detective moved away.

Locky looked at him.

There was nothing behind those eyes.

"You don't like me, do you?"

The two year old boy shook his head.

No.

It felt like a knife stabbing his chest.

"I'm your father."

Locky said nothing.

"I never wanted to leave you, Locky. You and your brother were all I wanted," Sherlock said softly. "You still are. You're my sons. My own flesh and blood."

The toddler yawned.

"I don't know what else I could do to make you understand how much I love you because you're my son and..." the detective closed his eyes and remembered the day Jane told him she was pregnant again. "You can't imagine how much your mother and I longed for you, how much we wanted you."

Locky closed his eyes.

"I wish you loved me as much as I love you."

When little tears started to roll down Sherlock's face, Locky had already fallen asleep.

* * *

It was strange that Jane never dropped Sophia off so Mrs Hudson would look after her.

"But Mummy said Sophie was gonna be here, Nan."

The landlady continued her knitting. "Well, maybe they decided to take her with them."

"Why?"

"I don't know, Hamish," the landlady looked around and noticed Locky was not there with his older brother. "Where's Locky?"

Hamish smiled. "Upstairs drinking his bottle and watchin' The Teletubbies."

"I heard him crying."

"Yeah. Cos Daddy tried to give him a cup and Locky drinks his milk from a bottle but Daddy said he's a big boy to use a bottle and then Locky threw the cup to the floor and Daddy had to give him his bottle," Hamish explained. "And Locky doesn't like daddy."

Mrs Hudson was able to imagine the pain inside Sherlock's chest. She had seen the way Locky was when Sherlock was around, how quiet he was and how he behaved every weekend he spent in Baker Street.

"And what's your Daddy doing now?"

"He told me not to tell you that he's cleaning the carpet cos he said you were gonna be mad at him."

The landlady smiled.

* * *

Sherlock finished cleaning the carpet and looked at his son sitting on what used to be Jane's chair, with a bottle on his mouth and happily watching that strange TV show for children.

_'Time for Teletubbies. Time for Teletubbies. Time for Teletubbies. Time for Teletubbies.'_

Hamish jumped on his place. "Time for Teletubbies!"

 _'Tinkey-Winkey'_ "Tiky-Wiky!" _'Tipsy'_ "Tisy!" _'Lala'_ "Lala!" _'Poe'_ "Poo!"

Sherlock sat on his chair and looked at Locky jumping on his place, pointing at the telly screen and repeating the things' names over and over again. He couldn't help but see how absorbed into it Locky was and how happy he was watching that, when just a few hours ago he was silently crying in his room because apparently he wanted to go home with Jane.

 _'Teletubbies'_ Hamish giggled. "Teletubbies!"

 _'Say Hello!'_ Hamish waved his hand. "Eh-Oh!"

* * *

"Today I'm visiting a friend who needs my help with her knitting," Mrs Hudson said looking for her coat. "Why don't you come with me? She's got a very nice granddaughter about your age and I'm sure you can play with her while we knit."

"Okay. Is Locky comin' too Nan?"

Mrs Hudson smiled. "Hmm... Let's go just you and me."

"Why? Why can't Locky come with us?"

"He can come with us, dear, but why don't we leave him with your dad tonight?" Nan Hudson suggested. "So he and your daddy get to know each other better."

* * *

Mrs Hudson left soup and some biscuits just in case.

And then Sherlock was staring at his little son while he played with his toys calmly on the floor of the living room.

Locky had a thing for animals. He liked to play with stuffed animals, he had a couple of plastic dinosaurs and apparently he liked bees.

Clever boy.

Locky had five little stuffed bees and one that was the biggest among the others.

"Do you know why this one is the biggest?"

Locky said nothing.

Sherlock sat next to him. "It's because this is the queen."

The toddler remained silent, but Sherlock noticed he had got his son's attention.

"The queen bee is a mated female that lives in a honey bee colony or hive. She is usually the mother of most, if not all, the bees in the hive," Sherlock explained. "The queens are developed from larvae selected by worker bees and specially fed in order to become sexually mature -"

"Wot?"

Sherlock bit his lip.

"This one," Sherlock said pointing at the biggest bee. "Is the queen of these," the detective pointed at the others. "And they have to protect her and feed her."

Locky's eyes fell upon the stuffed bees. "She 'ungy?"

"More or less, yes. Do you like bees?"

"Yes."

The detective smiled at him. "I like bees too. They are very clever."

"Mummy say bees make 'oney."

"Yes, they do."

Locky smiled at his daddy. "Bees ZZZZZZ!" said the toddler, imitating the bees' sound.

"Maybe when you grow up we can keep some bees together, would you like that?"

The toddler nodded. "Yes! Want bees!"

"What kind of animals do you like?" Sherlock asked, now confidently.

Locky pointed at his dinosaurs, his teddy bears and the little horses. He had placed them all in groups. "Dinosaws," he pointed at the first group. "Bears" Locky them pointed at the last group. "And howses. I want a howse."

"Has your Grandfather Richard showed you the family horses?"

"Yes. Grandpa Riward has howses."

Sherlock caressed his son's dark curls. "And what do you know about these?"

"Dinosaws?" Locky took one and smiled. "Matt say dinosaws big and they rawww!"

"They were not big, gigantic I'd say. But they do not exist any more, otherwise we wouldn't be alive," Sherlock explained. "I can take you to the museum and we can see them."

Locky shook his head. "I see dinosaws with Matt."

Sherlock didn't like it when Locky mentioned Doctor Morstan's name. But at least he was happy he could get to talk to his son. This was the first time Locky was speaking so fluently to him, and that he let him play with him and his toys.

And they shared so many things, for example, bees.

"It's time you ate your dinner," Sherlock said looking at his watch. "Let's eat Mrs Hudson's soup and we can talk about bees."

"Bees, bees, bees!"

* * *

It was a bit late when Mrs Hudson and Hamish returned home. The old lady spend most of the afternoon helping her friend knitting a nice jumper for her grandson who was coming to the world soon while Hamish played with her friend's granddaughter, Emily.

Both landlady and Hamish climbed up the stairs and found the entire flat dark.

"Where's Daddy and Locky, Nan?"

In silence, they made their way to Sherlock's room, only to find him peacefully sleeping with Locky in his arms. Sherlock had a protective arm around the boy's body and Locky was holding, very tightly against his chest, his favourite teddy bear, the very same one that had been Hamish', a present Sherlock got for him when he was still inside Jane's belly.

"Look Nan!" Hamish whispered. "Locky likes Daddy!"

The landlady smiled. "It looks like it, yes. Let's go downstairs, Hamish. You can sleep with me tonight."

* * *

"Let's go, Locky! Look, that boy has a ball and he said we can play with him!"

Locky shook his head. "No! Want milk!"

It was a sunny Saturday. Straight after breakfast Hamish insisted he wanted to go to the park. Locky didn't say much, so Sherlock packed a bottle of water for Hamish, Locky's bottle and took the boys to the park.

They watched Hamish playing football with some other boys around his age when Locky curled his fingers around Sherlock's coat and pouted. "Milk!"

"You had breakfast forty seven minutes ago."

"Hmmm..." Locky bit his lip. "Want milk, pwease."

For some reason Sherlock didn't like to give Locky his bottle in public places. His son was going to turn three soon and he kept drinking his milk using a bottle. And the thing was that Locky liked to drink his milk whilst being held like a little baby.

Sherlock held Locky as if he were a little baby and started to bottle feed him. The detective looked down at Locky's closed eyes, his facial expressions, the way his little fingers curled on the bottle and his dark curls bouncing.

And some time later, Sherlock didn't notice there was a woman sitting next to him.

"My, what a cute child. What's his name?"

Sherlock turned and found a dark haired woman sitting next to him. Middle twenties. Had a two-year-old daughter. Secretary. About to divorce. Looking for a new love-

"Um... Sherlock."

The woman smiled and crossed her legs seductively. "Lovely name. That's my Natasha," she said, pointing at the little girl playing a few feet from them. "Good day to bring the kids, uh?"

"I suppose."

"Excuse me, have I seen you before?" she asked. "I bring my daughter almost every Saturday and one gets used to see the same faces every week."

Sherlock finished feeding Locky and made him sat on his lap to pat his back softly so he would burp."No, I don't frequent these places."

"Oh."

"Hmmm..." Locky coughed and tried to burp but ended up vomiting over the detective's expensive shoes. "Sowry."

The woman moved close to Sherlock and handed him two tissues. "These would do?"

"Thank you," the detective said to the woman and turned to Locky. "And I said that you had breakfast already," Sherlock said not angrily, but firmly. "This will teach you to eat when your stomach needs food, not when you want."

Locky pressed a sloppy kiss to Sherlock's cheek. "Sowry."

"Aw, he's so cute!" said the woman. "You and your wife must be so proud of him."

Sherlock said nothing.

And the woman noticed there was no ring on either of his hands.

"Are you waiting for your mummy, Sherlock?" the woman asked to Locky.

"She's in Italy with her boyfriend," Sherlock replied, his eyes focused on Hamish.

The woman patted his knee, bringing Sherlock's attention to her. "My husband left me for a flight attendant. I know how it is. But we could... I don't know, would you like to grab a coffee?"

"He didn't left you for a flight attendant, you left him for an airline pilot."

The woman's eyes widened. "How do you -"

"Easy. You just bought a book from one of the airport shops," Sherlock said, his eyes on the shopping bag she was carrying. "He just left again for the weekend. You're wearing what looks like expensive jewellery from a special place in France, but they are cheap imitations he got from one of his trips to Asia. Then your daughter."

"My daughter?"

Sherlock nodded. "She's eating cookies that are usually given during flights. You are a secretary but you don't usually flight with your employer. He gave you those cookies he takes from the flight food trolleys."

The woman took her bags. "You're a freak!"

"And you are a serial adulterer who likes to sleep with men you meet at parks."

The detective looked at Locky's face.

"What?"

"Sowry."

Sherlock smiled. "They are only shoes. But you must learn the lesson. You eat when your stomach needs it, not when you feel like it. You'll end up like Mycroft if you continue to eat uncontrollably."

"Not Uwcle Mycrowt!"

"You don't like Mycroft," Sherlock said triumphantly. "Why?"

"He scary with umbwella!"

Sherlock laughed.

"Who was that woman, Daddy?" Hamish asked after playing with some boys.

"No one."

"Do you have a girlfriend, Dad? Marty's dad got a girlfriend and Marty says she's very good to him."

Sherlock frowned. "Who's Marty?"

"Marty is my best friend. His mummy and his daddy are like you and Mummy," Hamish explained. "And I'm like Marty cos I live with Mummy and Matt. Marty lives with his mummy and his mummy's boyfriend."

The detective said nothing.

"You have a girlfriend, Dad?" Hamish repeated the question.

"No. Why would I have one?"

Hamish shrugged. "I don't know. Marty's dad got one and Mummy's got Matt. And you're alone."

"I'm not alone. I've got you and your brother," Sherlock said softly. "And I don't think I'd ever love another woman."

"Why? You love Mummy?"

Sherlock nodded.

"Mummy says she loves you cos you're my daddy and Locky's daddy."

The detective kissed the boy's fair hair. "We still love each other because we are your parents."

* * *

"Dad? I need help with my homework."

Sherlock sat next to his son and looked at what Hamish was working on.

A family tree.

"Here Miss Johnson said I have to start writing my name," Hamish said and pointed at his own name written at the bottom of the sheet of paper. "And then Miss Johnson said that I have to go up and write the names of my parents, their brothers and sisters and then my grandparents."

Sherlock nodded. "And next to your name you have to write your brother's."

"Locky or Sherlock?"

"Whichever you want."

"OK..." Hamish wrote 'Locky' next to his name and then drew two lines. "Now I have to write... your name and Mummy's, right?"

"Yes."

Hamish wrote 'Sherlock' and then 'Jane'.

"What's Mummy's name?"

"Watson."

"And I have to write Uncle Mycroft's name too, right?"

The detective nodded and watched his son writing the name, but with some spelling mistakes.

"It's a 'y' after the 'm'."

"Oh. And Mummy's sister Harriet too?"

"Yes," Sherlock said, pointing at the place where Hamish had to write her name. "What do you know about your Aunt Harriet?"

Hamish shook his head. "Nothing. Mum said Harriet was her sister and that they don't talk since her daddy died. But Mummy never told me why. Why, dad? Why Mummy and Aunt Harriet don't talk?"

Sherlock knew Jane lost every contact with her mother and her sister when she told them Hamish was not his son but Sam Sawyer. But he couldn't tell his son that.

"Because siblings do not always have the best of relationships."

"And you and Uncle Mycroft? Are you good brothers?"

"Not exactly."

"Why?"

Sherlock sighed. "Because Mycroft and I are very different."

"Cos Uncle Mycroft's got red hair and you dark hair? And Uncle Mycroft's eyes are green and yours are grey and Uncle Mycroft's nose is funny?"

"No, those are attributes that makes us physically different. When I said different, I meant we think and do things usually, and most of the cases, oppositely," Sherlock explained. "And I can eat all I want and I'll never get fat while he eats a single piece of cake and gains three pounds."

"Oh."

"Back to the tree," The detective pointed at the spaces above his and Mycroft's name. "Which names are you going to write here?"

Hamish bit his pencil. "Nan Lizzie and Grandpa Richard's?"

Sherlock nodded and waited while Hamish wrote the names. "And here?"

The boy's eyes fell on the two white spaces above his mummy's name. "Mummy said her mummy's name was Suzanne and that her daddy's name was John."

"Yes."

Hamish wrote the names and then turned to his daddy. "Mummy told me that Grandpa John died before I was born. And that she named me Hamish after him."

"His name was John Hamish Watson," Sherlock said. "He was a very brave man."

"You knew him?"

Sherlock nodded. "Yes."

"And he liked you?"

"I suppose."

"You liked him?"

Sherlock nodded. "Yes. Your Grandfather John was a good man and I wish he hadn't died. He was very happy when Jane told him she was pregnant. And he knew you were going to be a boy."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"And Mummy said that Grandma Suzanne doesn't love her any more, that that's why she calls Nan Hudson 'Mum' sometimes."

The detective caressed his son's cheek. "Suzanne was... she wasn't a very understanding woman."

"And where I write Nan Hudson and Grandpa Greg's names?"

"They are not your real grandparents, you know that."

"Yeah," Hamish said. "But I love them and I want them to be in my tree, Dad."

"OK. Write their names here above your grandparents', on the Watson's side."

"Done- No, Dad, wait!"

"What is it?"

Hamish pointed at Jane's name. "Where goes Matt?"

"Nowhere."

"But..."

Sherlock was angry. "He goes nowhere because he's _not_ related to you."

"But I forgot Sophie too! She's my sister!" Hamish said looking at his family tree. "I'll write her name next to mine and Locky's..." he did so. "But she's not your daughter, Dad."

The detective looked at the tree. He took a deep breath and asked the question.

"Do you want to include Doctor Morstan in your family tree?"

Hamish nodded. "Yes!"

"Do you love him?"

"Yes! Matt's very good to me and Locky and he loves Mummy," Hamish said honestly. "And sometimes Matt helps me with homework and he takes me to school and picks me up and we watch football together," the boy said happily. "And I wanna be a doctor like him and Mummy when I grow up."

Sherlock wished he could ignore that.

"You can write his name here," Sherlock said, pointing at the empty space next to Jane. "And under his name you can draw a line that connects him and your mother to Sophie."

Hamish did so.

"Do you like my tree, Dad?"

Sherlock merely faked a smile.

* * *

Sherlock was sitting next to his little son on his bed, helping him with his socks and combing his dark locks. He had given his children a bath and now he was helping them to get dressed and comfy.

"Dad?"

"Hmm?"

"Why I don't look like Locky?" Hamish asked, running a hand over his brother's wet dark curls. "Why he got dark curls like you and I don't?"

Sherlock paid little attention to that question and continued helping Locky with his pyjamas. "Because you look more like your mother."

"Marty said that Locky and I don't look like brothers."

"You _are_ brothers."

"But why we look so different?" Hamish insisted. "Marty's got a little brother too and he looks a lot like him and I don't look like Locky," the boy's eyes fell on Locky's dark hair and grey eyes. "And why Locky looks like you and I don't? It's not fair, Dad. I wanna look like you."

Sherlock felt his own heart sinking. It was the first time Hamish was asking such questions and he didn't know what to say. The detective only had the real reason why Hamish didn't look like Locky and why he didn't look like him and why Hamish would never look like him. Because Hamish wasn't his biological child like Locky. However, he and Locky were brothers because Jane was their mother. But yet both had two different fathers. And that's what made them look different.

And now day after day, Hamish was looking more and more like Sam Sawyer and less and less like Jane, making Hamish completely different from his parents and brother.

"Brothers don't necessarily look alike. For example Mycroft and myself," Sherlock said. "He's my brother and we're very different physically speaking."

Hamish considered the idea. "Yeah, but I wanna look like you Dad. So you like me more."

"Like you more?"

"Yes," Hamish said, with sadness in his voice. "You like Locky more cos he looks like you and I don't."

Hamish was not jealous. Hamish was starting to wonder and ask himself why he was so different to his brother and to Sherlock, to the man both conceived were their father.

"I love you equally. I don't care if he looks like me more than you do."

"You sure?"

Sherlock hugged his son. "Of course. I love you equally because both are my sons - my own flesh and blood. The thing is that you look more like your Grandfather John," the detective said, pressing a kiss to Hamish's cheek and combing his fair hair with his fingers. "And like your mother. And Locky looks more like me, that's all. But both are my sons, OK?"

"I love you, dad."

Sherlock smiled at him. "I love you too, Hamish."

* * *

Jane was walking along a road where there was nothing but open green fields, cows, horses. There was a house or two every ten to fifteen minutes walking. Despite being in winter, it was a sunny Sunday morning and Jane looked at every house she passed by to see if it was the house she was looking for. Matthew told her countless stories about that house that had belonged to his family for years until his father died when he was very little and his mother had to sell it.

_"It's a big cottage house with a tall tree to it's left and the fence is white. The walls are white and the roof tile is red. There are roses... all sorts of flowers planted there. My mum planted them."_

Jane remembered the description Matthew gave her once. And she also remembered the picture of that house hanging in one of the walls of Locky's room.

For two days she did nothing but cry and stare at the pictures she had with Matthew. The doctor was a very important person to her. He helped her and Hamish when he was ill, when he woke up after the coma. Matthew had shared countless cups of coffee and lunches with her when Hamish was in hospital and he became his and Locky's doctor.

Matthew gave her a life again. He gave her more reasons to live and fight for her children because if it hadn't been for him and the boys, she would have taken her life only to be with Sherlock again when she believed him dead. The doctor helped her to finish med school, to raise the boys, and Matthew even helped Hamish with his speech problems.

Doctor Morstan had been more than helpful and being alone in the house made Jane realise how much he missed him and how much she needed him. She was lying alone in their bed and even though she had craved for Sherlock's touches, his lips, his body, she was now missing the doctor. She was used to feel Matthew's strong arms around her, his muscled chest against her back, his soft fingers on her body, his lips.

Being alone made Jane realise what she wanted and what she needed.

And Jane missed Sophie too.

Jane loved that baby as if she was her daughter. And watching Matthew taking Sophie away from her felt like a knife stabbing her chest. Sophie was the baby girl she had always wanted to have, and that baby she almost conceived with Matthew months ago.

So that's why two days later, Jane decided to give it a try and go to the place she knew Matthew and Sophie were.

After long minutes walking, Jane spotted the house and Matthew's car parked outside.

The house was beautiful.

She opened the fence and walked in. Jane looked at the roses and smiled. They were lovely. But she was about to knock the door when she heard a baby laughing.

It was Sophie.

Jane walked around the house to the back garden where she found Matthew sitting on a chair with Sophie in his arms. He looked so sad. His eyes were bloodshot and Jane noticed he hadn't shaved since she last saw him. His always neat dark curly hair was a mess.

Matthew was feeding Sophie and pressing soft kisses to her little hands.

"You're my little princess, aren't you? Of course you are," Matthew said softly. "And I'll always love you, OK? Because I'm your daddy and you're my daughter..."

"Hello," Jane said, walking to them.

Matthew looked at her surprised. "What are you doing here?"

"I needed to see you," Jane replied softly, sitting next to him and Sophie.

"And how did you know we'd be here?"

She smiled. "You are always telling the boys about this place," Jane said, looking at her surroundings, at the plants and flowers and the green field before her. "You said you wanted to buy it and I knew you were saving some money."

"Yes. I bought it," the doctor admitted.

Jane reached out for his hand and caressed the doctor's knuckles with her thumb. "I came here to say I'm sorry. I know my words are not enough, but I'm sorry, Matt. I'm very sorry for... for what I did."

"For sleeping with _him_ behind my back?" Matthew said angrily, hurt.

She nodded. "Yes. For sleeping with Sherlock behind your back," her other hand unconsciously moved to her stomach. "And for not telling you about my pregnancy."

"About our baby," the doctor corrected her.

Both said nothing for a moment or so, until Matthew moved his hand away from Jane's.

"Why, Jane? It was my baby too... why didn't you tell me?"

Tears started to roll down Jane's face when she remembered seeing her doctor after feeling some pain. She thought it was nothing. But when after an ultrasound the doctor called her to his office and when Jane looked at the strange form in her womb, she knew something wrong was happening.

"I didn't want to hurt you," Jane whispered. "You lost your children before. I didn't want you to suffer again, Matt. It was my fault."

"What do you mean?"

Jane looked away. "I missed one of my periods and I knew something was wrong but I refused to believe I was pregnant. We were taking precautions and... and I continued working and working and I... it was my fault. I killed our baby."

"Don't say that."

"I had the miscarriage and I saw it. It was the size of a pea, Matt. It was so little," Jane said hoarsely. "And then the doctors told me I can't conceive. I can't have more babies."

"My little girl..." Matthew placed baby Sophie in her pushchair to focus only on Jane. "You should have told me... You _should_ have told me."

Jane shook her head. "I didn't want you to hate me."

"I would have never hated you, Jane. You know it," Matthew's blue eyes fell on her. "But I had the right to know about it. About that baby. How far along you were?"

Jane bit her lip. "Ten weeks."

"God." Matthew covered his face with his hands. "Ten weeks?" he asked desperately. "Ten weeks?... Oh my God."

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry," Jane repeated. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Matthew. Please, forgive me."

Matthew bit his lip. "It doesn't matter it was the size of a pea. It was _our_ baby."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"It hurts me, Jane. Don't think it doesn't... because it does."

Jane remained silent.

"And just weeks after losing it you go and sleep with him," he said angrily. "You were carrying my child, Jane. I don't... I can understand this. You were pregnant, you lost it and just a few weeks later you slept with him. _How could you?_ "

She didn't know what to say.

Because honestly, she had no words to justify her actions.

"Why you did it?"

Jane bit her lip. "I don't know."

"How many times?"

"I don't know," Jane repeated.

Because honestly, she had lost count.

"But you met several times."

She nodded. "Yes."

"And how could you met my eyes afterwards?" Matthew asked, hurt. "You kissed me. You told me you loved me."

"I'm sorry," Jane insisted. "I'm so sorry."

Matthew took a deep breath and their lips met in a deep, long, sweet kiss. Jane got hold of his shirt to bring him closer and deepened the kiss. The doctor opened his eyes and saw Jane's were closed. He bit her lip and she moaned.

"I love you. I love you more than my own life, Jane," he said softly. "I gave my life for you once and I'd do it again and again. Just for you."

Jane pressed soft kisses to his lips.

"Do you love him?" Matthew asked, almost fearful for her answer.

Jane's eyes fell upon the baby girl on the pushchair next to Matthew.

She had to make a choice.

"No."

"I forgive you because I love you and because I can't conceive of a life without you," Matthew whispered. "But you have to promise me you won't betray me again. You have to promise me you'll be mine. Only mine."

She cupped his face and kissed him again. "Yes. Yes, I'm yours. Only yours."

"And you have to promise me you won't see Sherlock again," The doctor's eyes darkened. "Because I swear if I ever see him touching just a single hair of your head... I'll _kill_ him."

Jane remained silent. But she suddenly felt hypnotised by Matthew's words, by his dark blue eyes, by his dark, severe expression.

"He brings the worst out of me, Jane," Matthew said darkly, almost huskily. "All this time... all this time I had to put up with him, but I don't know if I'll be able to do it any longer. So he'd better stay away from you... away from us. And one more thing: you'll divorce him and you'll marry me. I'm tired -" Matthew was angry. "I don't want you to have his name. You're mine."

She only nodded.

"Because I would-" Matthew looked away. "I would hate to leave again. And next time is forever, Jane," the doctor warned her, darkly. "Next time I'm taking Sophie with me and you'll never see her again."

Matthew's words sent a shiver down Jane's spine. It was the first time she heard Matthew talking like that.

Jane was hypnotised.

"The boys..." Jane trailed off, feeling herself dizzy. "They need their father."

"They are his children, Jane. I'd never do anything to keep Locky or Hamish from seeing him. I'm a dad -" he trailed off. "I'm a father too. And I know what it's like. But I only want him to stay away from us, OK?" Matthew said, softly this time.

Jane nodded again. "So... will you go back home?"

He smiled at her. "Of course. I missed you. Sophie needs her mummy and _I_ need you."

"I need you too," Jane said, throwing her arms around his neck. "I feel so alone without you. You're very important to me."

"And you, my darling... you're the most precious thing I've got and I'd do _anything_ to keep you safe. And by my side."


	33. Crying Child

_"Mummy said you had to go when I was born cos you were very ill."_

_Oh God._

_"And Mummy said that's why I met you when I was two," Hamish said innocently, as if he were telling a story. "What happened to you, Dad?"_

_It hurt._

_"I did drugs," Sherlock confessed._

* * *

It was a cold morning. Sherlock wrapped his blue scarf around his neck, put his coat on and checked his children were as much warmly clothed as he was. Finally, the three of them, Sherlock, Hamish and Locky went out to the street, all of them ready to take a cab and go to school.

Sherlock was carrying Locky in his arms and Hamish was standing next to him when the three of them spotted a black car parked outside Baker Street.

And Mycroft.

Carrying his umbrella, as always.

"Uncle Mycroft!" Hamish said and ran to the politician. "Uncle Mycroft, I missed you!" the boy hugged his uncle, tightly, and pressed a kiss to Mycroft's pale cheek. "Are you takin' me to school?"

Both Holmes brothers shared a look.

"We're taking a cab."

"Sherlock, please, get into the car," Mycroft said politely and smiling to his young brother and to his little nephew. "You won't want the children to get a cold."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes.

"Please, Dad. I wanna go to school with Uncle Mycroft!"

The detective reluctantly got into the car.

And there he was, with Locky sitting on his lap and Hamish sitting between him and Mycroft.

"Hello, Sherlock," Mycroft said.

The little toddler buried his face into Sherlock's chest. And the detective smiled triumphantly.

"What's this, Mycroft?" Sherlock asked sharply. "Oh, did Mummy and Father send you to check I'm taking good care of my children?"

Mycroft rolled his eyes, letting out a silent sigh. "Do you have to do this? Mummy and Father know you are capable of looking after your own children."

"Then what are you doing here?"

Hamish patted Sherlock's hand. "Dad! You're being rude to Uncle Mycroft!"

Mycroft smiled widely.

And Sherlock pretended he hadn't seen that smile.

The journey to Hamish's school was silent between the Holmes brothers, but Hamish and Mycroft talked about all sorts of things, such as school, Hamish's favourite movies, the new toys he wanted, Mrs Hudson's food and how cool Sherlock's experiments were.

And once they left Hamish in school, Sherlock asked what he already knew.

"They are in England."

"Yes," Mycroft said as the two men made their way into the politician's office. "Sit down, please. There are matters to be discussed."

Locky clung to Sherlock. "Not want 'ere."

"Hello, Locky. Do you remember me?"

It was Mycroft's assistant.

"'ntea!" Locky said happily.

The brunette woman smiled back. "Why don't you come with me? I got lots of pencils..."

"Yes!"

"She will look after him," Mycroft said to his brother and both men watched the woman taking the toddler with her. "So we can speak freely now."

"They are in the country," Sherlock repeated. "They never left."

The politician nodded. "Their current location is a country cottage he had recently acquired."

Sherlock remained silent.

"But that, my dear brother, is not the main topic of discussion here."

"No, it isn't."

"Sebastian Moran has been in touch," Mycroft said, handing Sherlock a folder. "And apparently he has no desire to come to an agreement between the involved parts."

Sherlock opened the folder and found a series of letters. All of them had been tipped. White sheets. White envelopes. Dark ink. All of them were the same: one sheet of paper into each envelope and all of them were addressed to Mycroft Holmes.

And all of them had the same message.

**GIVE ME SHERLOCK**

But the latest one had another message and a picture: it was a picture of Hamish, Locky and Sophie.

**GIVE ME SHERLOCK OR THEY WILL DIE**

"I don't know how he got my address," Mycroft said. "I got a letter every day for the past two weeks."

Sherlock's eyes focused on the picture. It was a picture of his two children at the park, sitting together and next to them was Sophia on her pushchair.

"What about the records?"

Mycroft shook his head. "Nothing. There's no Sebastian Moran. Not here, not in Ireland. Not even in the whole world."

"He used the key-code to erase his identity."

"Moriarty?"

Sherlock glued his hands together under his chin. "Moriarty was too egoist. He wanted to be on the spotlight, be the only one clever in this game."

"But Sebastian Moran was his right-hand man. You said Moriarty knew you would defeat him," Mycroft said worriedly. "Are there any chances of Moriarty leaving everything on Moran's hands before dying?"

The detective considered the idea. "He swore to destroy me and my family," Sherlock said, remembering Jim's words on Bart's rooftop. "He could have left everything to Moran, yes."

"And he could be anyone now."

Sherlock was furious. He was practically fighting a ghost, an unknown man. He had travelled all over Europe killing and dismantling Moriarty's empire and he was sure he had got all of them, but there was one man still alive, out there, threatening to kill his children - the most precious thing Sherlock had.

And Sherlock didn't know whom he was dealing with, how he looked like, what he really wanted. Nothing. Sherlock _knew nothing._

It was awful.

The detective only had one name: Sebastian Moran.

Sherlock knew he had to do something otherwise Hamish, Locky and even Sophie, that baby Jane loved with all her heart, could die.

"Why they didn't go to Italy?" Sherlock asked, changing the subject. "Don't tell me you don't know. You have tails on them."

Mycroft only nodded. Of course he had people on Jane, but not on Doctor Morstan. Matthew had nothing Mycroft could possibly want or be interested in, but Jane was different. Jane still was his brother's wife, his nephews' mother and the only woman Sherlock had always loved.

"Soon afterwards you left their house with the children Doctor Morstan was seen storming out of the house carrying a bag and Sophia."

Sherlock showed no emotion whatsoever.

"Two days later she started looking for them."

The detective said nothing.

"Today first thing in the morning Jane filled in a divorce petition form."

* * *

"Daddy."

Sherlock moved his computer off his lap and looked at his little son whose fingers were curled on his expensive dark trousers and whose dark curls were falling over his forehead. Locky had a dummy that had little bees painted all over it. The detective couldn't help but feel nothing but love for that child. His child. Little Sherlock was one of Sherlock's most precious things, and Hamish too obviously.

"You're far too old to use this," Sherlock said softly, taking the toddler in his arms and sitting him on his lap.

Locky shook his head.

"Do you want to talk?"

The toddler shook his head again.

No.

"Do you want milk?"

No again.

"Good," The detective said. "You have learned the lesson then. When do you have to ask for milk or food?"

Locky took the dummy off his mouth. "When I'm 'ungy."

Sherlock smiled. "Your mother has spoilt you."

Locky giggled.

The doorbell rang. The detective, still holding Locky in his arms, looked through the windows down to the streets and his eyes fell on Doctor Morstan's car.

Two minutes and seventeen seconds later, Sherlock looked at the open door of his flat and found Doctor Morstan standing on the doorway. There was a _smirk_ on his face and almost jokingly smile aimed at him.

Locky practically jumped off his arms and ran to Matthew.

"MATT!" Locky practically screamed and ran to the doctor's arms. "Missed you!"

Matthew bent down and picked the toddler in his arms. His blue eyes were closed when Locky pressed a sloppy kiss to his cheek and rested his head on his shoulder. The doctor kissed Locky's forehead and caressed his dark curls.

Sherlock was looking at the scene before him with angry eyes.

"Hello Little Poppet! I missed you too," Matthew smiled to him. "Have you been a good boy to your father?"

"Yes!"

"Where's Hamish?"

Locky smiled. "Doin' homewow."

"What are you doing here?" Sherlock asked sharply.

The doctor shot him a glance and put Locky down. "Locky, go and tell your brother you are going home with me now."

Sherlock waited until Locky was out of earshot.

"Where's Jane?"

"At home," Matthew replied calmly.

Sherlock felt his own blood boiling inside him. "You're not taking my children."

"I'm not _taking_ them. They are going _home_ ," Matthew said firmly. "Where they _belong_ to, with their mother."

"They are my children!"

"And they're going _home_ ," The doctor hissed. "With _me_ and their _mother_."

Had it not been for Hamish and Locky, Sherlock knew he would have punched Doctor Morstan until he was dead on the floor of his own flat. The detective had far too many reasons to want to kill the doctor: he was the owner of _his_ wife, he had raised his children and he was, somehow, acting _as if_ he as their real father.

"Matt!" Hamish hugged the doctor. "I missed you! Locky said we're going home with Mummy."

The doctor smiled fondly to the boy. "Yes, we're going home now."

"No, you're staying," Sherlock said, walking two steps forwards and taking his children's hands. "You're not going anywhere," the detective then focused on Matthew. "Jane and I agreed they are to stay with me for a week. Do not interfere between what she and I -"

Matthew's blue eyes were dark. "Am _I_ the one interfering?"

Sherlock noticed the darkness of the doctor's eyes, the angriness in his voice and his intentions.

"Boys, let's go. Pack your things."

Hamish's grip on Sherlock's hand tightened. "But... I wanna stay with Daddy... please, can I stay with Daddy?"

"Want stay 'ere too," Locky whispered.

The detective smiled at his children. "Go to your room. Both." The boys left and Sherlock walked towards Matthew, until their faces where inches apart. "Leave."

"You'd better take good care of them," Matthew said angrily. "because if you ever hurt them -"

"Because if I ever hurt them what? What will you do?"

Matthew clenched his teeth. "I will _kill_ you."

"They are _my_ children," Sherlock snapped. "I'll never hurt them."

"You did it once. You can do it twice."

Sherlock felt his heart beating faster.

"Now listen to me and listen carefully," Matthew hissed. "If you ever hurt them or even get close to her, you'll regret it."

"Will I?" Sherlock said sarcastically. "Look at the poor doctor..." Sherlock's eyes scanned him, trying to deduce him. "Trying to play the perfect father and husband. She _doesn't_ love you. And you know it. You just don't want to see it," The detective's grey icy eyes were on his. "She's with you because she feels pity you."

The doctor's hands curled into fists. "Don't you dare -"

"Have you told her about your _condition_ , doctor?"

Matthew looked away. "I'll pick them up this Friday afternoon."

The doctor stormed out and left.

* * *

Matthew looked at Jane's hand on his chest. It was late and she was peacefully sleeping next to him. They had gone to bed hours and hours ago and the doctor couldn't conceive any sleep. He stared at the ceiling for long minutes until his eyes dropped on the cot next to their bed where Sophie was sleeping. The doctor ran a hand over his face and sighed, the headache was killing him.

He slid out of bed and went to his little room, to his 'office' like the children called it, the room where he had a desk, a chair, his books and his computer. Matthew sat on his chair behind his desk and read his medical reports.

He knew he had to tell Jane before things got worst.

The symptoms were getting worse and worse. The headaches became intense, the mood changes were driving him crazy, as the vomiting and his own cognitive activity was declining. Last week he had to look the name of a medication up on a book because he couldn't remember the name of it and what for it was prescribed. It was something that had never happened to him since he got his degree. He was a very experienced doctor and he knew what to prescribe to a child within a quick and always good examination. But now he needed to look at books to make himself sure what he was prescribing wasn't going to kill his own patients.

"Can't sleep?"

The doctor smiled at Jane. She was wrapped with his dressing gown and leaning on the doorway. She looked a bit sleepy.

"Headache."

"Are you OK?" she asked, walking close to him and sitting on his desk.

He nodded, faking a smile. "I'm fine," Matthew rested his head on Jane's lap and pressed a kiss to her hand. "Touch me, please."

Jane caressed his dark curls and massaged his scalp softly, very softly and slowly. The doctor closed his eyes and gasped when he felt Jane soft fingertips on his scalp, on his dark curls, on his face and neck.

"Better?" Jane whispered.

He kissed her bare thigh. "Yes. Keep doing it, please love."

This time Jane bent down and kissed his temple. She let her fingertips dance on Matthew's scalp and curls whilst she pressed soft kisses to his temple. The doctor remained silent, his eyes closed.

"Tell me what you're thinking," she whispered. "What's on your mind, Matt?"

He remained silent for long seconds, eyes closed, pressing soft kisses to Jane's bare thighs.

"You."

"Me?"

He nodded softly and finally, kissed her stomach. "You're always on my mind."

Jane smiled bitterly when she felt Matthew's lips kissing her stomach through the fabric of her nightie. She knew he was in pain, that he was hurt knowing they were expecting a baby and that it died. It died before its heart could start beating.

It hurt.

"Tell me, Matthew. Tell me what you're thinking."

The doctor sat on his chair and looked at her.

"I'm thinking about them."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"It was Josephine's second birthday," Matthew whispered. "We got her a pink dress and a golden plastic crown," the doctor said and smiled bitterly, tears rolling down his face. "And she ran all around the house saying she was a princess."

Jane smiled lovingly. "She must have looked so cute."

"Hmm," the doctor wiped the tears off his face. "She was my little princess."

She patted his back and took his hand. "Come on, let's go to bed. You're cold."

"I can't sleep."

"Do you want to drink something?" Jane asked worriedly. "We have herbal tea."

The doctor shook his head and walked with her to their room. Both lay down on their bed next to each other. In silence, Jane tossed to face him and placed a hand on his chest, close to his heart and felt it pounding inside him.

"I'm sorry."

Matthew pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Every thing's going to be all right, my little girl," he took her hand and laced their fingers. "I promise."

* * *

Days flew by. From that Monday to Friday Sherlock dedicated himself to look after his children every single hour of the day. In the mornings he woke up early to prepare breakfast just how they liked it: cereal and milk, some biscuits for Locky and toast with jam for Hamish, among orange juice, sometimes pancakes, sometimes tea with milk or yoghurt. Once they had eaten his breakfast Sherlock took Hamish to school and returned home with Locky. While the older was in school, Sherlock learnt his little son liked to watch 'The Teletubbies', play with his toys and look in wonder how Mrs Hudson skilful hands manoeuvred her knitting and how just in a couple of minutes she could have the sleeve of a jumper knitted.

"Do you like it, Locky?"

The toddler didn't say anything. He was sucking on his pacifier and his eyes were on the dark blue knitted sleeve the landlady was working on.

"Is your Nan Lizzie still knitting you things?"

Locky nodded.

"Does she knit?" Sherlock asked surprised.

The landlady nodded. "We used to compete against each other when Locky was born," Mrs Hudson explained, her eyes gleamed remembering those days. "She knits beautifully."

Sherlock realised there were a lot of things, but _a lot_ he had missed and still knew nothing about. But Mrs Hudson took her own time to tell him about the days when Jane wanted to leave Baker Street soon afterwards Locky was born. She also told Sherlock about Hamish's jealousy episodes, about how Jane managed to take care of a four-year-old, a newborn and pass her exams, get good grades to maintain her scholarship and earn a position assisting one of the most important professors at Bart's.

"I left her money."

The landlady nodded. "She said it was theirs," Mrs Hudson said referring to Hamish and Locky. "She lived very modestly, but always making herself sure the boys had everything they needed."

During the afternoons, Sherlock sat next to Hamish and helped him with his homework. The detective realised Hamish has his own problems, specially with numbers and writing. Sometimes he made him look words up on the dictionary instead of telling him the meanings. Hamish was a very clever boy despite the developmental delay and he worked very hard to do things correctly and understand properly.

"Daddy, can you explain again, please?" the boy asked softly.

"It's OK."

"I'm sorry, but I don't understand. I'm a retarded."

Sherlock looked at him. "Don't ever say that."

"Why?"

"Because you're not a retarded."

"But I can't understand things, Dad," Hamish replied. "Will I ever be normal?"

Sherlock felt his own heart sinking in sadness. "You are normal."

"Then how come I'm like this?" Hamish asked, innocently.

"There is a part of your brain that doesn't work properly like other people's. It is something that will always be like that," the detective tried to explain. "There is no cure for it."

Hamish bit his lip. "So I'm gonna be like this forever."

"Yes," Sherlock admitted, sadly.

"Dad, can I tell you a secret?"

The detective nodded.

"But it is a secret and you don't have to tell any one, 'K?"

"Of course."

Hamish bit his pencil and then put it down. "When Mummy told me I'm like this cos she was ill when I was a little baby inside her tummy, I asked Matt what happened to her cos he's a doctor. But Mummy's a doctor too but she didn't want to tell me why she was ill..." Hamish whispered, as if the room were filled with people when he and Sherlock were alone. "Matt told me that Mummy got hurt and that's why I was born...," the boy struggled with his own thoughts. "He said that I was born before I had to and that I was very little."

Sherlock remained silent.

"But Matt said he didn't know what happened to Mummy. Do you know why she was hurt?" Hamish asked innocently.

The detective didn't know what to say. He closed his eyes and remembered that night. He still remembered it as if had been just yesterday. Sherlock remembered the needle in his arm, feeling the cocaine in his veins, Jane's face when she found out - when she saw him injecting himself. Then the screams, he shoving her against the wall, pushing her to the sofa where now both of their children liked to sit and watch telly together.

And Sherlock remembered pushing her down the stairs, watching her falling, hitting not only her arms, legs, chest, back... her baby bump. Jane lying on the floor, bleeding, pressing her hands to her belly and in a futile attempt of trying to feel her baby inside her.

_"I can't feel the baby. I can't feel Hamish... "_

"I..." Sherlock trailed off. He felt speechless. "I was very... ill," the detective mumbled. "I wasn't thinking properly."

Hamish looked puzzled, confused.

"You were ill too?"

Sherlock looked away and wiped the upcoming tears in his eyes. "Yes."

"Mummy said you had to go when I was born cos you were very ill."

Oh God.

"And Mummy said that's why I met you when I was two," Hamish said innocently, as if he were telling a story. "What happened to you, Dad?"

It hurt.

"I did drugs," Sherlock confessed.

Hamish bent his head. "And what's that?"

"Drugs make people do things they don't want to," Sherlock explained so his son would understand. "And they make people ill, very ill."

"And Mummy was ill cos she did drugs too?"

Oh God. "No."

"Then why was Mummy ill?"

"It was my birthday and your mother baked a cake for me," Sherlock started explaining. "It was a chocolate cake. She invited your Grandparents over and they spent the day with us," the detective stopped and looked into his son's blue eyes. "It was late... and I was taking drugs when your mother saw me."

Hamish remained silent.

"And I panicked. I thought she would leave me."

"Why?"

Sherlock bit his lip. "Because I was hurting myself."

The boy went silent.

"I... I wasn't thinking. I..." The detective looked away to wipe the tears off his face. "I hurt your mother."

Hamish said nothing for a couple of seconds. Suddenly, Sherlock remembered all the things he did to hurt Jane, the time he was so jealous that grabbed Jane's arm with more force than necessary and left bruises. He remembered yelling at her, ignoring her when her father died and she was so alone and depressed. Sherlock remembered not eating the food she prepared for him with so much love. He remembered ignoring her when Jane returned form seeing her doctor and bringing another scan, not listening to her when she said Hamish was little than expected... not helping with anything and consequently watching her lying on a hospital bed after almost losing Hamish.

Sherlock remembered ignoring Jane for days, weeks, months. And he realised how much she suffered, not only because of his hands on her body, hurting her, but because of his silences and coldness.

And ignoring Jane when he was told her baby was born. And that both had a heart attack and almost died.

"You... you hurt her?"

"Yes."

Hamish frowned. "Why?"

"I wasn't thinking."

"So... Mummy was ill cos you hurt her?" the boy asked innocently, still confused.

Sherlock nodded. "But you must understand I never intended to... I never wanted to do it. I _loved_ your mother -"

"But Mummy say you don't hurt the people you love!" Hamish said angrily, tears filling his eyes. "That's a lot not good, Dad!"

"Hamish -"

The detective put a hand over Hamish's, but the boy rejected his touch. "You hurt Mummy! You bad!"

"Hamish please," the detective whispered. "I swear I never wanted to hurt your mother. I didn't do it on purpose."

The boy jumped off his seat. "I want Mummy! I don't wanna be here any more!"

"Hamish -"

"I WANT MY MUMMY!" Hamish cried, tears rolling down his face. "I WANT MUMMY! I DON'T LOVE YOU ANY MORE!"

The shouts were so intense that Locky was on the doorway looking puzzled to his big brother crying and Sherlock trying to calm him down. Mrs Hudson was in the room when the boy ran to her and hid behind her.

"Sherlock, what's going on -"

"Nan I wanna go home! Please call Mummy!" Hamish begged between sobs. "Call Mummy! I wanna go home!"

The landlady pressed a hand to her mouth. She looked into the detective's eyes and found tears about to fall at any second. And she didn't need to ask why Hamish was crying and asking her to call Jane.

"Hamish, calm down -"

"CALL MY MUMMY! I WANT MY MUMMY! I DON'T WANT TO BE HERE ANY MORE!"

The sobs turned into gasps and Hamish went breathless. He started coughing when Sherlock remembered the inhaler.

Thank God he had one.

"Hamish, take deep breaths -"

Hamish pushed Sherlock off him and stood behind Mrs Hudson. "DON'T TOUCH ME! I WANT MY MUMMY!"

"Hamish -"

The landlady patted Sherlock's shoulder. "Pack his things, Sherlock," Mrs Hudson said and then turned to Hamish. "I'll call your mummy. Do you want to wait for her downstairs with me?" she asked softly. "I've baked a chocolate cake, your favourite."

Hamish said nothing and Mrs Hudson told him to go downstairs with Locky and wait for her there.

"Pack their things, Sherlock."

"He asked, Mrs Hudson," Sherlock whispered. "I wish I hadn't told him," the detective sank into his chair. "I shouldn't have told him."

The landlady showed no emotion whatsoever. "You should regret hurting them in the first place, Sherlock."

Sherlock looked at her hurt.

"I couldn't believe it when Greg told me," the landlady confessed. "I knew you were intoxicated when you hurt her," she sat across him. "And when I saw her... the poor thing was all covered in bruises and praying to God Hamish would survive."

Sherlock remained silent.

"I'm not judging you, dear," the landlady said taking Sherlock's hand and caressing his knuckles with her soft thumbs. "Because there's a difference between what you did what and my husband did."

The detective looked into her eyes.

"You loved her and you're really sorry for what your did."

"I wasn't thinking, Mrs Hudson. I was so high I forgot it was her whom I was hurting," Sherlock confessed. "I swear I never meant to hurt them like that."

She nodded. "I know," tears filler her eyes. "Give the boy some time. I'm sure he will understand."

"When?"

"Some day," Mrs Hudson whispered. "He's very little and he needs time, Sherlock."

Sherlock packed his children's things while Mrs Hudson looked after the boys. Hamish didn't want to see him, but when Sherlock was sitting in his landlady's kitchen, feeding Locky his afternoon bottle, he heard his older son's crying, his sad sobs and saying he didn't love him any more.

It hurt.

Within minutes he heard the familiar car and Jane's ringing the bell.

Sherlock heard Hamish running to her and crying.

"Hamish, it's OK -"

"I WANT HOME MUMMY!"

When Sherlock appeared in Mrs Hudson's living room, Jane looked at him with hatred in her eyes. Next to her was Matthew, trying to wipe the tears off Hamish's face and hugging him tightly. Jane walked towards him and took Locky off his arms sharply. She didn't say a word, but Sherlock knew she was hurt and angry. Because neither Mrs Hudson, nor Sherlock and nor Hamish needed to tell Jane what had happened.

Neither of the boys said good bye to him. Hamish didn't want to, and Locky knew something wrong was going on. The toddler looked happy to see Matthew and clung to him immediately.

Sherlock watched the doctor sitting Locky in the back seat of his car and Jane hugging Hamish and telling him everything was going to be OK. The doctor hugged Hamish too and pressed a kiss to his forehead. The detective watched in silence Hamish clinging to Matthew and asking him to take him back home because he didn't want to be there any more.

As they drove away, Sherlock's mobile went off.

He ignored it.

That night Sherlock spend several minutes sitting on his own chair, staring at the toys left on the floor, at the empty bottle on the table and at Hamish's drawings on the walls.

His phone went off two, then three and then four times.

He ignored them.

It went off a fifth time and Sherlock was about to slam it against the wall when he realised there was a text from Jane.

**Stay away from my son - JW**

Tears rolled down his face.

But it wasn't all.

**Your entire world is crumbling, isn't it? - SM**

**Don't worry, I will make it better - SM**

**How much time do you need to say good bye to your little family? - SM**

**The clock is ticking, Sherlock Holmes - SM**


	34. Dark Revenge

_"I'm like this cos you hurt mummy when I was inside her tummy?" The boy asked._

_"Yes," Sherlock admitted. "You were born before time and consequently your health was affected because I hurt your mother."_

_"Mummy said you don't hurt the people you love," Hamish said, tears falling from his eyes. "You didn't love me, Dad._ _I'm like this cos you," the boy whispered. "I'm deaf and retarded cos of you."_

* * *

"It's OK, Hamish. I'm here, Big Poppet," Matthew whispered, embracing the child with his arms and kissing the top of his head. "Don't cry."

Jane was sitting next to them, crying.

Everything felt like a nightmare.

"Now close your eyes and try to sleep. You need to sleep, Hamish."

The boy rested his head on the pillow and closed his eyes when he felt Matthew and Jane covering him with his duvet. "I don't want my Dad here. Please, Matt, don't let him take me!"

"I won't," The doctor whispered reassuringly. "I promise I'll protect you, OK? We'll be in our room if you need anything, all right? Now close your eyes and sleep."

It wasn't until they closed the door of Hamish's room when Jane sobbed loudly in the doctor's chest.

"Don't cry, love. Don't cry."

"I shouldn't have never let him see my babies, Matt," Jane said angrily between tears. "He should be dead!"

The doctor took her to their room. He made her sat on their bed and handed her a cup of hot tea. "Drink this, it'll make you feel better. "

Jane took a long sip and licked her lips. "What's this?" she asked between tears.

"Cinnamon tea," Matthew whispered rubbing her back softly, reassuringly. "Drink all of it, you'll feel better. I promise."

She drank all the tea and rested her head on his shoulder. "I can't bear seeing my Hamish suffering."

"Hamish needed to be told the truth, Jane," Matthew whispered. "I know it's difficult and I know it hurts you... but don't say Sherlock should be dead."

Jane cried for long minutes in his arms. "You are far a better father than he is."

"I'm not."

"Yes you are! Matthew stop defending him!"

Matthew's eyes widened. "I'm not defending him!"

"Yes, you are! It's sick!" Jane shouted. "He hurt my son, he hurt me and I know he said things to you too!"

The doctor got to his feet, angrily. "What do you want me to do, uh?!" he shouted as loudly as Jane did. "He's their father! I can't change that, can I? Do you think I like it? Do you think I _fucking_ like it that he's their father?"

Jane remained silent. But she felt dizzy, sick. Suddenly she felt her vision clouding and she couldn't focus on Matthew.

"Listen, Jane..." The doctor sat on their bed and supported his face with his hands. "The only ones that keep me from killing him for hurting you are the boys. Because he's their father and neither you nor me can change that," Matthew said darkly. "He is their father and it doesn't matter if you want it or not, they will need him. And Sherlock _Fucking_ Holmes will always be their father," The doctor walked closely to Jane and pushed her softly until she was against the wall. "And he's your husband..." Matthew took her wrists and held them above her head. "I fucking _hate_ that."

"Matthew..." she whispered, feeling incredibly intoxicated by those dark blue eyes, as if she was drunk. And she was surprised because Matthew never swore like that. "You know I'm yours."

The doctor's eyes darkened. He kissed her violently, pushing her against the wall and lifted her so she would circle his waist with her legs. With a quick movement he pushed her until she was lying on their bed and pulled at her nightie fiercely. "You're mine..."

Matthew's right hand pulled his mobile out the pocket of his pyjama trousers and pressed the a familiar number. It was the number of whom the doctor wanted to listen to them.

"Jane... you're going to do all I want and you're going to repeat my words," Matthew said darkly. "OK, baby? You're going to do everything I said without complaining. You're so going to enjoy this..."

Matthew's words made Jane close her eyes and then she nodded at everything he said. Suddenly she felt hypnotised. "Matthew..."

"I'd tell you what I _can_ do," the doctor said huskily whilst caressing Jane naked body cupping one of her breasts with his soft hands. "I can change this," Matthew said, undressing himself. He made Jane roll until she was on her hands and knees on the mattress, so she wouldn't look at the mobile he had in his hand.

Matthew held his mobile against his ear.

_"What do you want?"_

"Listen and learn." Matthew said darkly.

Then, the doctor made Jane turn to him. Now he was completely naked in front of her. "You're his because it is written on a paper, but you're mine in our bed."

Jane lolled her head back when she felt Matthew's lips on her body. Suddenly she went silent, as if the words coming from her mouth would mean nothing. But her mind... she felt as if she had drunk something because suddenly she couldn't even think straight. Jane couldn't even think in anything else but in the man over her trying to please her and himself as well.

"I wish we could..." Matthew said between kisses. "I wish we could go back in time," He said touching the most intimate place of her body. "I would have never hurt you."

She nodded, her eyes closed with pleasure. "I know."

"I wish I'd been the first man in your life... The very first man to show you what love is, baby," Matthew said as he sunk into her, slowly. "And the only one to have the privilege to possess your pure, beautiful body."

Jane felt hypnotised by Matthew's dark blue eyes. "I wish you have been my first man. The only one."

"Don't you wish I was the father of your children?"

She nodded.

"Say it, darling."

Jane nodded again. "I wish you were the father of my children."

"Because I love your children as if they were mine."

She moaned. "Ahhh... yes!"

The doctor thrust hard into her. "I can feel you, Jane. I'm completely inside you..." Matthew panted. "Can you feel me?"

"Yes," Jane nodded, her eyes closed. "I can fell you completely inside me."

"I wish I could go deeper into you."

"Me too..." panted Jane, not really thinking in what she was saying. "Yes, me too."

Matthew pulled himself out of her and then moved into her roughly. "I need you, Jane. I need you more than anything else." She kissed him tenderly. "Don't leave me..." he thrust hard. "I did a lot of things for you. It wouldn't be fair for me, Jane..."

Jane nodded. "I know..."

He kissed her violently. "It would be _indecent_."

"I know..."

And then, Matthew Morstan was taken by his own desire to please his own needs and by his obsession to possess Jane. He sunk very deep into her and thrust as hard as he could, making the headboard hit the wall and Jane moaned loudly.

"You have to hate him," Matthew whispered huskily to her ear, pulling her legs fully apart. "You have to hate him," he repeated, this time close to the mobile he had hidden between their pillows. "He hurt you, Jane. He doesn't love you. He only wants to ruin you."

"Yes," Jane repeated. "He doesn't love me."

"I love you so much. I'd never hurt you because I only want to make you happy," Matthew said to her ear. "Do you love me as much as I love you?"

"Ahh... yes... ah, I love you..." Jane bit her lip and looked into Matthew's dark blue eyes. "Matt... you're hurting me... Ahhh!"

"But you like it, don't you? When I fill you up with my cock," the doctor kissed her and bit her lip. "Fuck, Jane. Just thinking he... just thinking he did this, what I'm doing right now makes me so mad," Matthew keep thrusting hard into Jane. "Because you belong to me, don't you?"

Jane buried his nails on his back. "Matthew... Ahhh! Yes. I'm yours."

"You like this?" He asked darkly, pounding hard into her. "Of course you like it. You should look at your face now, my precious thing."

She bit his neck. "Matthew... I like it."

"I bet he never made you feel like this..." the doctor panted and felt himself on the edge. "He's not man enough for you, Jane," Matthew kissed her again.

"No..." Jane bit her lip, her eyes closed. "He isn't..."

Matthew smiled darkly and moved the mobile close to Jane. "Say it, love. Don't be afraid of saying it. Say how a fantastic lover I am."

"God, Matt," Jane panted. "You're fucking _good._ "

"That's a good girl," this time he kissed her softly and cupped her cheek with one hand. "I'm going to come."

"Ahhhhhh, yes..."

"Do you want me to come inside you?"

Jane nodded, her eyes closed. "Yes, please."

"Even if you didn't want to I would do it anyway," he said to her ear. "I'm going to fill you up with my come," The doctor smiled darkly. "Because you are mine."

He thrust into her three more times. "Scream, Jane. Let it go, you know you want it," Matthew whispered very softly to her ear, "say the name of the man you love," he said very, but very softly to her ear.

"Matt ahhhhh yes!... Ahhh..."

The doctor watched Jane shouting his name as they came together.

It wasn't until he pulled himself out of her when he saw Jane hissing in pain when the doctor realised what he had done. But knowing someone was listening to them made him so hard. The drug worked just like he wanted it to. Jane responded splendidly to it and to his commands.

Now Matthew knew he had done the right thing.

"You were so good," he whispered as he felt Jane catching her breath and smiling at him weakly. "Such a good girl. You made such lovely noises for me."

She snuggled up to him. "You were so good," Jane repeated.

The doctor moved off her and covered their nakedness with a sheet. "Remember that summer when we couldn't keep our hands off each other? When we went to _his_ country house? We fucked all day long when the kids were napping or playing outside - in every known position, can you remember that, darling?" Matthew asked in purpose.

"Yes," she said, sounding almost childlike. "I remember."

"And that hot night when we fucked in the pond under the stars?" Matthew asked so purposely.

"It was good."

Matthew smiled triumphantly. "Wasn't it? And when we almost broke the bed? You were riding me, remember, cowgirl?"

"Yes. I was riding you," Jane repeated.

Matthew decided to change the strategy. "I'm sorry I've neglected you lately."

Jane rested her head on his chest. "I missed you," she said softly, kissing his toned chest. "You've been so distant these past days."

Matthew bit his lip. He knew he had to tell her about his condition. The medication had left him useless. He felt as if he had no sex drive at all. But he stopped taking those pills and now he felt like a man again. He felt he could love Jane again and make her feel like a woman.

And the drug he had put on her tea worked perfectly.

"That's a good girl," the doctor said, kissing her passionately.

Jane smiled, the drug was still in her system. She straddled the doctor's hips and stroked his member. "I want to ride you."

There was something dark, almost evil in Matthew's eyes. He only smiled at her. "You can ride me," he said huskily, sending shivers to her spine and caressing the soft skin of her hips, her stomach and her breasts. "I'll let you ride my cock all night long."

"God, yes," Jane panted. "I want to..."

"Tell me what you want," the doctor demanded, his dark blue eyes on her. "We'll do everything."

Jane smiled as if she were a little child allowed to pick all the dolls she wanted in a toy store. "I want to... I want to ride you and I want you..." She smiled weakly, ignoring the mobile hidden in between the sheets. "I want you, _please._ "

"Of course," he said lovingly. "You're my little girl and I'm going to make you feel so good. I'm going to fuck you so hard that you won't be able to think straight."

"I want you now."

"Give me five minutes. Do you want some wine?"

Jane nodded. "Yes, wine. I want wine."

The doctor wrapped himself with his dressing gown. He walked to the door and paused to take a look at Jane: she was completely naked, lying on her back, with the tip of her index finger in her lips. She was sucking it seductively for him.

"Don't go anywhere, OK, doll?"

Matthew went downstairs to the kitchen and pulled his mobile out his pocket. He glanced at it quickly, knowing Sherlock Holmes was still listening.

"I think I have just given you a very good proof of how good we are together," Matthew smirked loudly. "Next time you mess up with them, I'll send you a video so you see her beautiful face when I bring her to climax," he turned to check there was no one listening. "Keep off the grass."

The doctor finished the call and smiled to himself darkly. He picked up two glasses, filled them with wine and returned to his room.

On Baker Street Sherlock Holmes put his mobile down and stared at the darkness of his own loneliness.

Then when a single tear rolled down his face he realised he had got two texts while he was listening to Jane and Doctor Morstan.

It was Sebastian Moran.

**Planning your death right now - SM**

**Aren't you curious? - SM**

**You won't tell me - SH**

**Where's the fun on telling you? - SM**

**How long? - SH**

**It could be now, tomorrow, next week, next month. Be ready - SM**

The clock was ticking.

* * *

 

Jane opened her eyes and looked at her surroundings. The windows were closed but the curtains were wide open. The sun was illuminating the room, and her naked body. Her eyes fell upon her own body: she had pink bruises on her hips, the entire bed was a mess and there was a deep, strong smell of sex in the room. Immediately she covered herself with a sheet and her eyes fell on the two empty glasses of wine on Matthew's bedside table. The entire house was silent but for the noises coming from the bathroom.

The door was open. Jane wrapped with the sheet and found Matthew inside the bathroom. The skin of his chest and back was still wet. He had just got out of the shower, he had a towel wrapped on his hips and he was shaving.

"Oh, look who's awake," Matthew said happily and continued shaving himself. "Good morning, my sexy little doll."

"Don't call me 'doll'."

The doctor turned to her and frowned. "Grumpy today, aren't we?"

"Stop joking," Jane said angrily and looked at him. "What... What happened?"

"You don't remember?"

Jane frowned confused at the hurt look upon Matthew's face. "No."

"We had the greatest night, my little girl," Matthew said, still shaving himself. "You were fantastic."

Jane pressed a hand to her lower part. "Ugh."

"Are you OK?"

"My... It hurts. Did I drink?"

He nodded. "Yes. I don't know what happened to you."

Jane rested her head on his wet back and sighed tiredly. "God, I feel so tired. I need a bath," she turned on the tap and glared at Matthew.

He smirked. "Can I join you?"

Jane looked at him.

"What? I've seen you naked before," Matthew said pushing Jane against the tiled walls and dropped his towel. "Last night I pressed kisses to all your body. All of it."

Jane blushed. "Matt, what if the kids -"

"They're sleeping."

"I don't know..."

Matthew laughed. "Don't be shy, Jane my love. Don't you remember what we did last night?"

She shook her head and closed her eyes when she felt the warm water falling over their naked bodies. "No..."

"We made love in the missionary position you like," Matthew said softly, "then you rode me, cowgirl. God, you made such lovely noises for me. We fucked all night long," The doctor smiled at her. "All night long, baby. Have you seen the sheets?" Matthew asked darkly. "Have you seen the state of the wall? We almost broke the bed."

Jane kissed him. "I can't... I can't remember," she said shyly. Of course she had seen the state of the sheets, the sate of the wall behind the bed. She couldn't remember anything, but there was enough proofs to know she - they indeed had quite a night.

"Its OK. I can make you remember everything we did right now here," Matthew sucked one of her breasts. "Let's have a quickie. I've missed having lazy morning sex with you, my baby. I'll make you feel so good..."

She pushed him off her. "Matt... I'm not feeling well."

He kissed her lips very softly and lovingly and shampooed her hair. "Let me wash your body. Your precious, beautiful body."

Jane couldn't say no and closed her eyes when she felt the doctor's soft hands washing her body, caressing every single inch of skin of her body.

* * *

 

"Are you working today, Matt?" Hamish said after seeing the doctor was wearing his dark trousers, a white shirt and a jacket, the clothes he usually wore to go to work. "Today's Saturday."

The doctor smiled at the boy sitting across him. He was reading the papers and drinking coffee whilst Locky was drinking his milk and Jane bottle feeding Sophie. "No. I have to take some papers, that's all. Do you want to go to the cinema today?"

The little boy's bloodshot eyes after crying so much lit up. "Yes! Can we watch 'Monsters University'?"

"Of course."

Jane smiled at his eldest child. "How are you feeling this morning, Poppet?"

"Fine," Hamish said.

Matthew finished his coffee and kissed Jane's lips. "I'll be right back. Do you want to go out for lunch?"

"We can eat here."

"OK," the doctor turned to the boys and smiled at them. "Be good boys to your mummy."

* * *

"Doctor Morstan, are you taking the pills I've prescribed you?"

Matthew shook his head. "No."

"Why?"

"I... they make me feel sick. I couldn't sleep, I had headaches, migraines and no sex drive."

The doctor nodded. "Have you thought about your options?"

"Yes."

"Well then..." Matthew's doctor looked at the medical reports and the scans on his desk. "We have observed the evolution of the neoplasm and you're very lucky..."

Matthew only nodded.

"Have you discussed this with your family?"

"No."

The doctor shifted on his chair. "Doctor Morstan, you're a doctor yourself and I'm sure you know that family support is vital in the road to recovery."

"Chemotherapy."

"Your brain tumour is hardly that..." The doctor trailed off. "We can try surgery. You know Bart's Hospital has the best neurosurgeons of this country."

Matthew considered the idea. "Would the -" he bit his lip and looked at his engagement ring. "Would the chances of survival be higher with surgery?"

His doctor nodded. "Yes."

* * *

Later that day, Doctor Morstan, Jane and the children, and even Sophie went to the cinema and watched Monster University. The boys loved it and at the end of the film Matthew got them toys and stuffed animals from the film. They went out to have lunch before the film, and after it they went to a nice cafe for tea. The city of London was slowly showing the Christmas spirit and now every single shop was decorated with green and red decorations.

"Are we spending Christmas with Nan Lizzie and Grandpa Richard?"

They were in the car going back home when Hamish asked the question. "I don't know, Hamish."

But when they got home Matthew started feeling unwell. He threw up on the kitchen sink and felt a throbbing pain on his head.

The children were sleeping when they went to bed. Matthew kept saying he was OK and that maybe he had eaten too much popcorn. Jane sat on their bed and let him rest his head on her lap, so she could massage his scalp and press kisses to his temples, which according to Matthew, always made him feel better.

"I love you, Jane," Matthew whispered after a long time of silence. "I swear to God I love you."

She smiled at him and kept massaging his scalp. "Everything's all right. I'm right here."

"Stay," he said kissing her bare thighs. "Don't go."

"I'm here."

The following morning when Jane woke up she felt Matthew's cold hand on her stomach.

She turned to him and gasped in horror when she found him lying almost unconscious next to her. His nose was bleeding, severely. The white pillow was completely red and she knew he had lost too much blood.

"Matthew..." Jane whispered, shaking his shoulders. "Matt, wake up..."

Nothing.

Jane pressed a hand to her mouth and called an ambulance.

Matthew's pulse was weak and no matter how hard she shook him, he wouldn't wake up.

* * *

"What?!"

The doctor bit his lip. "Your husband has a brain tumour."

Jane pressed a hand to her mouth and shook her head. "That's... that's impossible! He doesn't smoke, he goes to the gym... God, he's the healthiest person I've ever known!"

"I know, but... there are no explanations. I'm sorry. But luckily it's a small tumour. It's operable and the chances of survival are very high."

She wiped the tears off her face and nodded. "Is he OK now? Can I see him?"

"Yes, if you will please follow me."

When the doctor left them alone, Matthew couldn't met Jane's eyes. He was lying on a hospital bed. There were no machines connected to him and his clothes were neatly folded at the end of the bed. The neurologist told Jane he could leave hospital that same day, but that he needed to have some rest, take things easy and stay calm.

"I'm sorry," Matthew whispered, sitting on the bed. "I'm so sorry."

Jane sat next to him and kissed his lips. She moved a hand to the back of his neck to deepen the kiss and tangled his soft fingers on his dark curls.

"I'm sorry, my little girl."

"Why you didn't tell me?"

Matthew remained silent.

"Why, Matt? You said there shouldn't be secrets between us!"

The doctor looked away when tears threatened to go leave his eyes. "I didn't want you to... I didn't want you to stay with me only because of my illness."

"What?!"

"I was told about the tumour a few days before leaving hospital... And then I knew about you and -" Matthew's hands curled into fists. "When I knew about you and Sherlock I told you to choose between him and me," Jane nodded, crying. "I didn't tell you about this because I didn't want you to choose to stay with me just because of the tumour... I didn't want you to be my nurse. I wanted you to choose the person you love. I didn't want you to feel pity for me."

"Matthew," Jane took his hand and laced their fingers. "I don't pity you. And now nothing, but nothing, is going to tear us apart. Now that you need me."

The doctor kissed her lips. "I don't want you to stay with me and be my nurse. I want you to stay only if you want to."

"But I want to be here," Jane said softly. "I don't want to leave your side. I need you too."

"You're such a good girl to this old man."

Jane rested her head on his chest. "You're not old."

"I'll be thirty-seven soon, Jane," Matthew whispered. "And you're just a little girl of twenty-four. I have grey hairs on my head and wrinkles on my face."

"I don't care. You're young, you're not old. And I don't want you to die."

Matthew smiled at her. "I won't die. I promise you I won't die," the doctor rubbed her back softly. "I love you too much to die because of a brain tumour."

* * *

The couple were sitting together across one of the most important neurosurgeons of Bart's Hospital. Their hands were glued together, their finger entangled when they were told how Matthew's surgery would be like.

"The tumour has strangely reduced its original size," the neurosurgeon said. "That only tells us your surgery will be nothing. You won't even feel it."

Jane shifted on her chair. "There won't be any consequences, right?"

"No, it's a small tumour. The chances of survival are high," the neurosurgeon said to Jane and then turned to the doctor. "When can schedule the surgery for next week."

"No," Matthew said firmly. "I don't want to spend Christmas and New Year here," he turned to Jane. "And I want to spend the boy's birthdays at home, with them."

Jane smiled at him. "Matt, it'll be better if you get this surgery now. The sooner the better, right doctor?"

The doctor nodded. "Indeed. But as I said, the tumour is little and we can control it with some medication. But no more than two months."

"That's all the time I need," Matthew said.

* * *

 

Three days later Hamish asked the question.

"Mum, why Dad took drugs?"

Jane was in the kitchen preparing lunch, and Hamish was helping her. Matthew had taken Locky and Sophie to get their vaccines. Mother and son were alone when after a long moment of silence Hamish decided to ask the question that had been in his head for days.

Jane sat in the table with him. "What did he tell you?"

"He said he took drugs and that he wasn't thinking and that he hurt you," Hamish explained sadly. "And that he was very ill. Is that true, Mum?"

Jane nodded. "Yes. He was very ill."

"But why he took drugs?"

"I don't know."

"Mum... You said I'm like this cos you were ill when I was born," Hamish mumbled. "I'm like this cos Dad hurt you?"

God.

Jane bit her lip. She never thought this moment would come. She always imagined Hamish would never ask such questions. But the boy was so curious and Jane knew Hamish wanted to know why he was different than other kids, why he had to wear a hearing aid to hear, why it took him so long to understand and learn things.

"I'll tell you what we'll do," she picked up her mobile. "I'll tell your father to come here this afternoon and we'll have a talk."

"I don't want to see him."

"He's your father, Hamish. He loves you and he needs to see you," Jane faked a smile. "And I can't keep you from seeing him. Your father has rights. And you have rights too."

Hamish hugged Jane. "But I don't want him to hurt you, Mummy. What if he hurts you and me and Locky and Matt?"

"He won't hurt me, nor you, nor Matt, nor anyone," Jane said firmly. "We'll fix this, OK?"

"OK..."

**Hamish is asking why you took drugs - JW**

**You can tell him yourself - SH**

**You never told me - JW**

**I can't tell him - SH**

Jane gasped when she realised what Sherlock meant, why he couldn't tell Hamish.

**I'm not telling him about Sam Sawyer - JW**

**I am his father - SH**

**Then come here and act as such - JW**

* * *

Sherlock rang the bell and waited.

Jane opened the door for him and without saying a word, she let him in and led him to the living room. There was Locky playing with his stuffed bees and Hamish was reading a book.

"Hello."

Locky pressed a sloppy kiss to his cheek. "Eh-Oh! Dad want play?"

"Locky, go to your room."

The toddler pouted. "But Mummy -"

"Your father, Hamish and I need to talk. Go to your room," Jane said.

Once Locky was out of earshot, Sherlock sat next to Hamish. On the other side was Jane, taking the boy's hand.

"Hello, son."

Hamish said nothing.

"Love, I want to tell you we love you no matter what, OK? You're our first child and we love you," Jane said softly. "All right?"

Hamish nodded, his eyes on the floor.

Then he turned to Sherlock. "Why you took drugs?"

"Because I felt confused," Sherlock said, his grey eyes on his son. "I was seventeen when your mother and I got married and you were on the way..." The detective looked around. "I was too young. I... I couldn't feel like a father. I couldn't conceive of myself like a father of a baby."

A single tear rolled down Jane's face.

"So you didn't want me?"

"No," Sherlock said. "Don't ever say that. I always wanted you. Always."

"Even when you and Mummy made me?" Hamish asked innocently.

God.

"Yes," Sherlock replied. "I already loved you when we made you. You're the result of our love. We wanted you with all our hearts."

Hamish nodded. "But why you hurt Mummy?"

Sherlock's eyes fell on Jane, who turned her face to wipe her tears and keep them from Hamish.

"Drugs make people do things they don't want to," Sherlock explained. "I was ill. I know it is not an excuse. But I was very ill."

"I'm deaf and retarded cos you hurt mummy when I was inside her tummy?" The boy asked.

Sherlock took a deep breath and took his son's little hand with his.

It was time to face the truth.

It was time to face what his actions had caused. Because now his son was suffering because of him. Hamish couldn't be like any other kid because of him.

And nothing would be like it had once been because of him.

"Yes," Sherlock admitted. "You were born before time and consequently your health was affected because I hurt your mother."

Sherlock's heart broke when his eyes fell on the hurt look upon Hamish's face.

"I'm like this cos of you?"

"I'm so sorry, Hamish. There has been no day in which I regretted what I did to you," he looked at Jane. "And to your mother."

"But Mummy said you don't hurt the people you love," Hamish said, tears falling from his eyes. "You didn't love me, Dad."

"No, don't say that. I've always loved you."

Hamish sobbed. "I'm like this cos of you," the boy whispered. "I'm deaf and retarded cos of you."

Jane embraced Hamish tightly against her chest and cried with him.

And Sherlock wished he could go back in time and change everything he had done.

"Love, your father always loved you. You have to understand that he was ill."

"Now I'm ill too forever."

Sherlock broke in tears. Silent tears rolled down his face.

"It'll get better, I promise," Jane whispered to him. "You're already very clever and you'll finish school and go to uni and be a doctor like me, won't you?"

Hamish nodded against her chest.

"I forgave your father because I loved him," Jane whispered. "You can forgive him too."

The boy turned to his father.

"You won't hurt me again, will you Dad?" Hamish asked sadly. "Or Mummy? Will you hurt Mummy?"

Sherlock pressed a kiss to the boy's forehead. "I'll never hurt you. Nor your mother. I love you too much to hurt you."

Jane stood up. "I'll prepare your medicine and tea, OK Hamish?"

Sherlock embraced the little boy. "I'm so sorry, Hamish. I swear I never wanted to cause you this. I always loved you, always. I love you. You're my son. My first son."

"Dad?"

"Yes, Hamish?"

The boy wiped the tears off his face. "I love you too. And not just cos you're my Dad. I love you cos you're here in my heart."

Sherlock cried.

"And you're the best Dad in the world cos you cook pancakes and you watch films with me and you want to get me a dog," Hamish said and smiled. "And cos you love me even when I'm deaf and stupid."

"I do all those things because I love you. Because I made you and you're my son," Sherlock whispered. "And I love you, no matter what you are or what you want to be. Don't ever said you're deaf and stupid. You are Hamish Watson Holmes and you're as normal as everyone else," the detective kissed his son. "And you're in my heart too."

Jane was back with a pill and a cup of tea. Hamish took the pill, drank the tea and told Jane he forgave Sherlock.

"Go to bed, Hamish," Jane said softly. "You need to have some rest. The pill will help you to sleep well."

"Good bye Dad. I love you."

Sherlock embraced his son. "Good bye, Hamish. I love you too."

Jane sat on her chair and covered his face with her hands. All those memories of herself fighting alone, alone with Hamish when she was merely a seventeen year old girl were in her mind. She remembered the bruises on her body after Sherlock had hit her. Jane remembered not being able to feed Hamish when he was born and not being able to hold him until he turned three months old. All those memories were printed in her mind as if they had just happened the day before.

"You were confused."

Sherlock looked at her.

"You don't need to be soft with me," Jane snapped. "Why don't you say the truth? Why you don't tell me you were scared?" She bit her lip. "Why you don't tell me you felt I pushed you into this?"

The detective stood up. "I loved you. You know I always did. And you know I wanted Hamish."

"Sometimes I wish you have remained dead."

Sherlock felt he had heard enough.

"I shouldn't have married you," Sherlock snapped back. "You could have had Hamish without my help. You could have stood up for yourself," the detective said. "And for him. You never needed me."

Jane's hands curled into fists. But she remained silent when she suddenly blinked and a single tear rolled down her face.

"You're doing the same thing Sam Sawyer did to you."

She said nothing.

Sherlock's eyes fell on hers. "You loved him and you begged for his love," Sherlock whispered. "I love you and I'm begging," he said bitterly. "I killed for you. I almost got _myself_ killed for _you_. And I went on my knees and I begged you to come back to me. To love me again and to let me see my children."

Jane remained silent.

"I'm tired of begging," Sherlock walked towards her and held her wrist and looked into her eyes. His mouths were inches apart. "But you love me. You know it. And I don't understand... I _can't_ understand why you are doing this to _us_."

When Jane moved forwards to him, Sherlock stepped back.

"I should have never loved you," Sherlock said. "I wish I could find a way to delete you from my brain because no matter how hard I try, I can't."


	35. Crash

_"Better be going. Nice to talk to you... How was your name?"_

_"Sebastian," the man said politely. "Sebastian Moran."_

_Harry took her car keys from her purse. "Enjoy England. You'll like it, I tell ya."_

_"I'm rather enjoying myself, yes," Moran nodded. "Good bye, Harriet Watson. Hope you get to see your sister."_

* * *

When Sherlock was gone, Jane went upstairs to her room. She sat next to Matthew's sleeping form on their bed and caressed his dark curls. She smiled at the sight of a few grey hairs and then she moved her hand to his face, where she touched the wrinkles around the doctor's eyes, on his forehead and kissed his cheek.

Matthew looked so peaceful when sleeping. Jane couldn't help but feel tenderness for that man who had been her partner for more than two years. She remembered all the moments they had shared together since the very beginning when he helped Hamish when he woke up after the coma, when he helped Locky to walk his first steps, their lunches, the cups of coffee shared. They talked lots during those days.

Jane knew Matthew had somehow always been meant to be part of her life. What started as a mere friendship changed into a new thing and a couple of months later they were holding hands and kissing. Then, they met their bodies and then they spent a whole month together in the country. Jane always believed life was being far too nice. She used to think life was giving her too much after losing everything. She was a widow with two little children and no hopes inside her heart. And now Jane looked at Matthew sleeping in their bed and realised she was now engaged to him, they were raising not two but three children, they were living together and they were, somehow, building a life together.

She realised she was not that Jane Watson who thought her life meant nothing and that there were no hopes for her. Now she was a doctor, mother of three children: two boys and one little girl. She thought she was happy.

But then she knew she wasn't.

And that maybe she would never be truly happy.

Because the very secure foundations where this relationship with Matthew had been built were now shaking.

"I need you," Jane whispered as she pressed a kiss to the doctor's lips. "Matt, please hold me."

The doctor opened his eyes and stared at her for a few seconds until he realised she had been crying. Matthew immediately pulled the duvet, opened his arms and let her rest next to him, in his arms, with her head on his shoulder and her hand on his chest.

"You're cold," he whispered.

Jane closed her eyes and kissed his chest. "Tell me you would never hurt me."

"I think during these two past years together I've proved you I'd never hurt you."

"I know."

"Jane..." Matthew whispered softly. "I've talked to my solicitor. The divorce papers should be ready soon, so we can get married for Christmas. And adopt Sophie together."

She said nothing.

* * *

 

Harry Watson asked for another pint. It was her second beer and she had just arrived at the pub. She drank rapidly, but enjoying the taste of it. Clara had left long ago and it didn't matter how hard she tried, Harry couldn't stay away from drinking. She had stopped for a while, only for Clara, but then it was all over and now there were no more reasons to stay sober.

"Two pints please, of the best you've got," said a man in fancy clothes and sat next to Harry. "Hello."

Harry didn't say a word.

As soon as the bartender handed the man the two pints, he placed one close to Harry and smiled at her. "For you."

"I don't do blokes," Harry almost barked.

"Can't I just buy you a drink?"

The expression on Harry's face changed. The man was wearing fancy clothes, quite expensive. He was tall, blonde, blue eyed and he looked important. She certainly didn't like men, but every once in a while she liked to pretend she was straight.

"Sorry darling," Harry purred and smiled.

The man smiled back. "May I ask your name?"

"Harry," she replied with a wink and sipped more of the pint this man had just bought for her. "Harry Watson. Yours?"

"Sebastian Moran."

"So...," Harry said, looking at him. "What are you doing here? You don't look like the type."

The man laughed and sipped more of his own pint. "Just needed to get out. You know, escape from the office, the family."

"Ha."

"What about you?"

Harry crossed her legs and glanced at her watch. "Just passing by. Needed a few pints before a two hour drive to London."

"Oh, are you going on holidays?"

"Nah. We're visiting my sister."

The man raised an eyebrow. "We? You and your other half?"

Harry rolled her eyes. "Nah, just my mum."

Sebastian sipped his own pint. "You don't look excited."

"Haven't seen her in... like six years. Mum insists she wants to see her," Harry said and sipped more beer. "'pparently she got married to another man and now has three children."

"Sounds... good, I suppose."

Harry smiled sarcastically. "For fuck's sake, all my mum's been talking these past days was 'Jane this... Jane that'. I fucking _hate_ it."

"Never got along well?"

"She was my parents' favourite girl," Harry said bitterly. "She was the one with good grades, straight, the one who kept the house clean and all that shit," she sipped more beer. "Then she got herself knocked up and married a rich bloke. It turned out it wasn't his child," Harry said and laughed sarcastically. "The little Jane aka 'The perfect Watson girl' turned out to be a wanton little slut."

The man frowned, but hid a tiny smile. "I don't know why, but I feel that's not all. To hate a sister like you do..."

"Bloody hell, no," Harry coughed. "The rich bloke forgave her and they had another baby. And my Clara doesn't forgive me my drinking," Harry said bitterly. "She's a doctor now. Shit, and I was kicked out of uni. The lucky bitch."

"So you're going to see her now?"

Harry nodded. "My mum is bloody convinced about it. She says she wants to see Jane. meet her grandchildren. But ha ha," Harry laughed. "'Three-times-whore', that's how I call her. Got three kids of three different men."

"So... you're not excited to meet your sister's children?" Sebastian Moran asked curiously.

Harry finished her pint. "Never liked children. That's why my Clara left," then, she glanced at her watch and smiled at Sebastian. "Better be going. Nice to talk to you... How was your name?"

"Sebastian," the man said politely. "Sebastian Moran."

"Sebastian Moran, right. Irish?"

Sebastian smiled. "From Dublin."

Harry took her car keys from her purse. "Enjoy England. You'll like it, I tell ya."

"I'm rather enjoying myself, yes," Moran nodded. "Good bye, Harriet Watson. Hope you get to see your sister."

* * *

 

"Hey, dad," Jane said whilst filling in some charts. "What's up? Hey, would you like to have lunch with me and Matt?"

Greg looked at Jane with sad eyes. He had gone to Bart's as soon as he got the reports of a car accident. Two women died. According to the early reports the driver was drunk at the moment of the accident. The car hit a wall but that was not all. The car drifted, and the woman sitting next to the driver died immediately. The air bag on the driver seat didn't work.

"Jane... I need to talk to you."

She immediately knew something was wrong.

For some reason Greg preferred to tell Jane the news in Matthew's presence. Because he inwardly knew the doctor was going to be able to support her.

"Harry and Suzanne... they are dead."

"What?!"

The D.I. ran a hand over his face. "They died in a car crash yesterday night. Harry was driving."

"Jane, love," The doctor said softly as he embraced Jane into a tight hug.

Jane buried her face in the doctor's chest and sobbed loudly.

* * *

 

"This wasn't an accident," Sherlock said stepping into Greg's office and throwing the newspaper to his desk. "The brakes' been -"

Greg shoot him a look. "Sherlock, stop."

"This wasn't an accident, Lestrade," Sherlock repeated. "They were killed."

"The case is closed. It was an accident."

"It wasn't! Have you checked the brakes? Why the air bag didn't work?"

Greg sighed tiredly. "Harry's car was a deathtrap, Sherlock. And she was drunk. That's the only explanation."

"That's the only explanation because you don't want to see further."

"Why are you doing this, Sherlock? You and Jane are not together any more."

Sherlock preferred to ignore that. "They were killed. Someone fixed the brakes and the air bag."

"Harry was drunk -"

"According to the blood tests done she was hardly that drunk," Sherlock pointed out. "The low level of alcohol on her blood indicates she only had two to three pints, I would say. She's a drinker," the detective said firmly. "Harriet Watson would have never been drunk after drinking only three pints of beer."

Greg glared at Sherlock and sunk into his chair. They had buried Suzanne and Harriet early that day, very close to where Jane's father was. Greg couldn't erase from his memory Jane's tears continuously rolling down her face. There was Matthew to hold her hand and tell her everything was going to be OK.

Now she was alone. Jane had no more relatives and she was the only left of his family. Her mother and her sister were gone.

"Who did this, Sherlock?"

"Sebastian Moran."

"Who?"

"Moriarty's right-hand man," Sherlock said calmly. "He promised to destroy me and my family. He's the one behind Jane's kidnapping."

Greg nodded, surprised. "And who shot Matthew too?"

"Tell your team to check on the brakes and on the air bag. Text me the details."

The following day Greg was given the results of the car inspection.

**The brakes and the air bag were fixed before the accident - GL**

* * *

 

Two days later Jane was back to work. She didn't want to stay at home and think of what it could have been. Her mother and Harry were going to see her. They were going to see her and her children and they died.

Jane had always wanted her mother and her sister to meet Hamish, Locky and now Sophie. She knew her mother would be proud of her, of how she managed to raise two little children and now with Matthew's help she was raising them and Sophie too. Jane wanted to see her mother and give it a try. She still remembered telling her mother that everything had been a lie: that Sherlock wasn't Hamish's biological father and that they only got married because she didn't want to give her baby up to adoption and not because they loved each other. Suzanne Watson thought she had been a promiscuous girl and that she was a liar.

But Jane wanted to forget that and see her mother and her sister meeting her children, Matthew and the new life she had.

Jane finished her shift, went to the changing rooms and changed her clothes. She glanced at her phone. Matthew had sent her text asking her to go to his office as soon as she finished her shift so the two of them would go pick up Locky and Sophie from childcare, Hamish from school and go back home all together.

So she wasn't expecting to see Sherlock in one of the hospital corridors.

"What are you doing here?!"

Sherlock glanced at her engagement ring. It was polished. He had already noticed before Jane regularly polished it. Doctor Morstan too.

They cared.

"I need to talk to you."

"I don't have anything to talk with you," Jane snapped.

"I do," Sherlock cut Jane off. "Now. Alone. It is important."

Jane glared at him. "I can't. We have nothing to talk about -"

"Harriet and your mother's deaths were no accidents. They were killed."

Jane felt her heart had stopped beating. She was still processing her mother and her sister had died in a car accident and the last thing she needed was to hear, from Sherlock's mouth, that they had been killed.

"What are you talking about?" Jane said quietly and looked around. There were some doctors and nurses passing by, some patients.

They were in the same floor where Matthew's office was and Jane didn't want him to see them. She had promised Matthew she would never see Sherlock unless it was to discuss things regarding Locky and Hamish.

"They were killed intentionally. The brakes and the air bag didn't fail - he fixed them."

"Jane?"

It was Matthew.

"Darling," he said, placing a hand around Jane's waist and kissing her forehead. "What are you doing here?" Matthew asked angrily, his eyes on Sherlock.

"Not your business," Sherlock snapped and turned to Jane. "Jane, I need to talk to you."

"Greg... he didn't say anything."

"Because Lestrade doesn't like to go beyond things. Sebastian Moran fixed the air bag and the brakes," Sherlock explained. "Harriet was hardly -"

"He?" Jane cut Sherlock off. "Moran?"

Sherlock nodded. "Yes, Sebastian Moran."

Matthew held Jane's hand. "For God's sake, for how long will you carry on with this?" he asked. "Jane, he is making this out."

"Shut up!" Sherlock hissed.

"You come here and make things out about her sister and mother's deaths? You're a heartless bastard," Matthew said angrily. "Leave her alone."

Sherlock decided to ignore him. "Harriet was not drunk at the moment of the accident," the detective said to Jane.

Jane closed her eyes and tears rolled down her face. The grip on Matthew's hand tightened.

"Sherlock, leave," Matthew said.

"She wasn't drunk. It was the car -" Jane mumbled.

"The police reports are wrong. Harriet had a low level of alcohol on her system when the accident occurred," Sherlock said. "Harriet was a drinker. She would have never been drunk after three pints. You knew her. She was a heavy drinker and your mother -"

"Don't talk about her like that! Don't you dare to talk about my sister and my mother like that!" Jane almost shouted. "They were my family and I won't let you say things -"

Jane tried to speak. She opened her mouth to say something but the words never came out. She stumbled and pressed both hands to her temples. Tears rolled down her face and Matthew tried to take her hands.

"Breath, Jane," he whispered to her and turned to Sherlock. "Leave. Leave us alone. Do not include us in your fantasies of terrorists and people who want to kill you."

Sherlock felt he couldn't take it any more. He had seen enough of the doctor playing the perfect husband to his _own_ wife, the perfect father to his _own_ children and now the only one who could protect Jane.

The detective had seen enough of that and he had heard enough too; just a few days ago he heard Jane having sex with Doctor Morstan, saying how good lover that man was, how she wished Matthew was the father of her children, that she loved him...

It was enough.

And now Sherlock was going to kill Doctor Morstan.

He punched Matthew in the jaw. Before the doctor could react Sherlock pushed him against the nearest wall and punched him hard on the face several times.

"Sherlock stop it!"

But Sherlock was blind. Suddenly he was taking all his rage and hatred against Matthew Morstan out of his system. The doctor fell to the floor where Sherlock kicked him. He kicked him on the stomach and finally grabbed Matthew by the collar of his jacket and hit his head against the floor several times.

Matthew was a bit taller than Sherlock and heavier as well. The doctor went to the gym and had strong arms and legs, toned chest and body, but he couldn't defend himself from Sherlock's rage and anger.

"Sherlock -"

Jane tried to grab his arm to pull him off Matthew. Several doctors ran to pull the detective off the doctor who was on the floor and many patients stared at the scene in horror. Matthew's nose was severely bleeding and his eyes were tightly closed. He kept pressing his fingers to his temples.

"Matthew, are you OK?" Jane asked worriedly.

"Jane... ," Matthew said, pressing a hand to his temple. "It hurts... oh God, my head hurts..."

The doctor coughed blood.

And Jane knew something was wrong.

"Take him upstairs!" Jane shouted to the doctors and nurses around them. "He needs to get a MRI now!"

"Doctor Watson -"

"He's got a brain tumour!"

Matthew was unconscious when he was taken upstairs. Several nurses and doctor ran to him, leaving Jane and Sherlock alone in the corridor.

"He is not ill," Sherlock snapped, cleaning the blood on his knuckles. "He's lying to you. There's no such thing as brain tumour."

Jane turned to him and slapped him hard across the face.

"He has no brain tumour! He's lying. He's manipulating you," Sherlock said, pressing a hand to his cheek. "Can't you see what's going on?" Sherlock almost screamed. "He's not ill! He's a liar. He's keeping you by his side using a brain tumour he does not have!"

"How dare you!" Jane yelled. "How dare you to come here to insult my family and my husband?"

"I don't see what difference it has made that your sister and mother are gone. You, Jane, cut your family off, it was exactly like they weren't even alive to you. I don't see why the sudden acknowledge and care for them now?" Sherlock said without really thinking about it. "And he is not your husband. I am your husband!"

Jane bit her lips, tears were rolling down her face. "You might be my husband, but you're not the man I love."

Sherlock remained silent.

"Stay away from us. Can't you understand I don't love you any more?"

The detective curled his lips upwards sarcastically. "Say whatever you want. You love _me_. You know it."

He turned and left.

Jane stared at him until his figure disappeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MRI (Magnetic Resonance Imaging) is a medical imaging technique used in radiology to visualize internal structures of the body in detail.


	36. Explosion

_"I was present when Locky walked his first steps and said his first word," Matthew said, cutting Sherlock off. "They call me 'Dad' sometimes and you can't imagine how good it feels... how good it feels to be more wanted and more loved than you."_

_"This is madness."_

_"You'd better keep off the grass and sign those divorce papers. Because if that Moran bloke you keep talking about doesn't kill you soon, I'll do it myself."_

* * *

"Sherlock, this fridge!" Mrs Hudson scowled his young tenant. "The milk has gone off. Is this juice?"

Sherlock wasn't even listening.

"You have nothing to eat!"

The detective continued working on his microscope. "I'm working."

Mrs Hudson opened the microwave and closed her eyes shut when she found two pairs of human eyeballs and toes. The cupboards were empty and there was nothing to eat.

"Not even tea!" the landlady turned to Sherlock. "When was the last time you ate?"

"Irrelevant."

"It is important, young man! You need to eat to be healthy."

The detective ignored her ranting. "Why would I want to be healthy?"

"For your children."

Sherlock's eyes fell on her and then he continued working. "I'm not going shopping. Supermarkets are boring."

Mrs Hudson sighed tiredly and started washing the plates, cups and Locky's bottle, things that had been left in the sink for days now, practically since the last day the boys had been there. She made a quick mental list of the things she needed to get for the detective and for his children in case they were going for the weekend.

"Is Locky still using his bottle?"

"Hmm."

"I'll bake a cake this weekend," the landlady said happily. "They are such lovely boys."

"They might not be here this weekend."

Mrs Hudson frowned. "Have you and Jane -"

"That's not your business."

The landlady said nothing. She went downstairs and minutes later Sherlock heard the front door closing.

* * *

 

"What happened to your eye? You had a fight?"

The doctor smiled to the boy. "No, just had an accident at the hospital, that's all."

"Cos when boys have a fight -"

"Hamish, Matthew didn't have a fight. He just fell. But he's OK now," Jane explained whilst tucking Hamish in bed.

Hamish's eyes focused on the band-aid Matthew had on his left eyebrow and on the bridge of his nose. "And why you got those?"

"I fell. Now, time to sleep."

Once the couple were in their bedroom, Jane helped the doctor cleaning his face and checked the purple marks all over his chest and arms. She massaged his chest, his back and his arms and legs very softly with a special cream and finally massaged his scalp and pressed soft kisses to his forehead and temples.

"Better?"

He nodded against her bare thighs and sighed tiredly. "I'm sorry for what happened today. I'm very sorry, baby."

"Don't be sorry. It wasn't your fault."

"Yes it was," the doctor said a a single tear rolled down his eyes. The migraine was killing him. "You didn't need to see that. I'm sorry about it."

"Matthew stop right there. It wasn't your fault," Jane said firmly. "Could have been your fault when you are the one hurt here?"

The doctor said nothing.

"For God's sake, he almost broke your nose!"

"But he didn't."

"He hit your head," Jane said bitterly. "You're here tonight, with me, but you know you could have ended up in surgery."

Matthew kissed her thigh. "I'm here."

"Then don't say you're sorry when you did nothing wrong."

"I said I'm sorry because that wasn't me. That wasn't me, Jane," Matthew said languidly. "I'm not that man. You know I don't -"

Jane pressed a kiss to his lips. "Hush."

They remained silent for long minutes. Eventually the doctor started to feel better and both lay next to each other on their bed. They were lying on their sides, facing each other when Matthew slid a hand under the covers to Jane's waist, pulling her close to him.

"We'll be married for Christmas," he whispered. "And Sophie will be ours. I can't wait to make you my wife."

"I already am, don't I? The new nurses think I'm your wife," Jane joked. "And all of them call me Mrs Morstan."

Matthew smiled lovingly. "But we need the papers to adopt Sophie together. And I want it to be legal and official. I want you to take my name and use a ring. I want everyone to see you're taken," the doctor said, his blue eyes were dark. "I want everyone to know you're mine."

"Matt, don't get angry... but those are papers, they are meaningless to us -"

"They might be meaningless to _you_ ," Matthew said with a frown. "Don't you understand they are vital to adopt our daughter?" he asked, almost indignantly. "Haven't you thought about that? About Sophie?"

Jane felt fear inside her. "No, that's not what I meant -"

"You still have his name," Matthew said lifting Jane's nightdress and moving his hands to her hips. "You're still his. And that makes me so _mad_ , Jane."

"No," she moved his hands off her. "Matt... I'm here. I'm here," Jane smiled at him nervously. "I'm here with you."

He shook his head and moved until he was over her, between her thighs and pressed violent kisses to her mouth, almost biting her lip. "Then be here, with me," the doctor took her hand and moved it downwards his body, under the covers. Then he got rid of her panties and started to tease her entrance with her fingers.

"Matt, you're... you're hurting me."

"You don't want to be mine in the papers, you're going to be mine here in our bed."

Jane dug her nails into his back and pressed a hand to his biceps, tightly. "Matthew, please stop. You're hurting me," she whispered.

That's the moment when the doctor opened his eyes and met Jane's blue, scared eyes. "Darling..."

"It's OK... just do it slowly," she said with a tiny, reassuringly smile.

"No... Jane, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

She kissed his lips. "It's OK."

"No, don't say it's OK. It's not," Matthew said, moving off her and pressing kissed to her forehead. "God, forgive me. I... I don't know what happened to me... it's just," the doctor bit his lips. "He makes me so mad. I can't explain it."

"Hush. I'm here. We are here. Just you and me."

"He brings the _worst_ out of me, Jane," Matthew whispered. "I swear I never meant to hurt you."

She only nodded and moved further close to him. "Well, it hurts a bit. But I..." Jane smiled. "I wasn't really complaining."

"You're my naughty little girl, aren't you?" Matthew smirked and kissed her passionately. "I wish I could make you feel good tonight."

Jane looked at the man above her with tender eyes and pressed a kiss to his lips. She caressed his arms, where the purple marks Sherlock had left were marking his pale skin and smiled fondly at him.

"You always make me feel good. But you're tired and you need to rest."

"I'm not that tired," he said, moving his hips forward, making their hips move together. "Am I?"

She closed her eyes. "Slow, Matt."

"Of course, baby," the doctor whispered to her ear and started undressing himself.

* * *

 

Mrs Hudson was not talking to him.

And Sherlock forgot why.

It was a cold morning when she went to his kitchen carrying what looked like two heavy shopping bags. She filled his cupboards with tea bags, sugar, coffee, beans, bread and cocoa, cereal, cookies and all sorts of things his children ate when they were at his flat. Then, she put milk and some meals already prepared that only needed to be put into the microwave for him.

"This should do for a week."

The detective noticed the bags under her eyes and she was pressing a tissue to her nose. She was ill.

"Mrs Turner and some friends are coming this afternoon so please, don't start shouting if you need something."

Ah yes.

"Mrs Hudson, the milk -"

"That's the brand the boys drink," the landlady said, predicting some complain coming from his tenant.

Sherlock cleared his throat. "I'm... sorry."

Mrs Hudson knew Sherlock rarely said sorry.

And if he had said 'sorry' to her, then he really meant it.

"I know that what happens between you and Jane is none of my business," Mrs Hudson said softly. "But you are very important to me. I know you since you were merely two seventeen year old teenagers living together and expecting a baby."

Sherlock showed no emotion whatsoever.

"Life not always give us what we want. Think you have two lovely children that will always keep you together. Not in the way you want, but together at least."

"Thank you."

Mrs Hudson patted his back. "Now try not to make dangerous experiments while my friends and I are knitting!"

* * *

"Did Mrs Hudson believe your story about you needing my signature for my son's nursery enrolment form?" Sherlock asked, turning to find Doctor Morstan standing on the doorway of the living room. "Or you also have her seduced by your fake charm?"

Matthew smiled sarcastically. "May I?"

"You won't go if I say no."

The doctor stepped in and sat opposite him, on what used to be Jane's chair. He crossed his legs and glared at him with a joy Sherlock's couldn't believe he had.

"And I thought I had broken your nose."

Matthew smiled. "You can see you didn't."

"What do you want? You're not here bringing my son's nursery enrolment forms for me to sign," Sherlock snapped. "You told her you were seeing your solicitor. And I thought that lying wasn't a good thing in a relationship."

"You are rather good," Matthew said and curled his lips upwards. "You can say all sorts of things by just looking? Incredible. Amazing. Brilliant - that's the word. You're _brilliant_ , Sherlock."

Sherlock shifted on his chair.

This was not good.

"You can say I've lied to her... but I didn't. I _did_ see my solicitor," the doctor opened his bag and pulled out a folder. "And I got this for you to sign. I know I could have sent them. The postal service is rather good in our country but," Matthew smiled. "I preferred to do it myself so you understand how this works."

Sherlock looked at the papers.

"Divorce papers again? I'm not -"

"You won't sign them?" Matthew asked, cutting Sherlock off. "Oh, Sherlock. Why you like to make things more difficult than they already are?"

The detective frowned.

The doctor smiled even widely. "What's wrong? Oh, don't tell the cat got your tongue. It's better if you don't talk because I got quite good things to tell you."

Sherlock remained silent.

"Divorce can be so stressful these days. But let's see the positive side of this: you sign these papers, Jane and I get married and voilà, we go on honeymoon and we'll let the boys stay with you for two weeks, what about that?" Matthew asked. "Do you see my point? You two divorce and neither suffers from stress. You got your children, and Jane and I go away to a nice warm place."

The detective frowned. "And if I don't sign them?"

"Well, last night Jane and I were discussing that. It was so funny how the topic arose," Matthew laughed. "We were _making love_ when I told her about the honeymoon and you know what?"

Sherlock said nothing.

"She said she wants to go far away, to a warm place like a beach because she wants to make love in the shore," Matthew smiled. "You should have seen her the other night," Matthew said, enjoying the moment, enjoying Sherlock Holmes was listening. "Her face... she's so beautiful when she comes, when she climax... when we reach that moment when I fill her up with my come. And she's so perfect." The doctor ran a hand over his hair. "She prefers it when I fuck her slowly and hard until it _hurts_ ," Matthew said. "Especially when I let her ride my cock. Oh, she does like that and let's agree she's rather special. Every time we fuck it's like I'm deflowering a virgin... the way she feels and how she moans my name every time I possess her body. She's so tight. Did you feel that too?"

"Shut up."

Matthew smiled widely when he realised he was pushing Sherlock's buttons. "She's mine. There's no inch of skin I haven't touched or kissed. All her body, all of it is mine. I've possessed everything. _Everything._ And I rather love her mouth. She can take my cock so easily. She quite knows how to please a man, doesn't she? She's always eager to try new things," Matthew said. "My Jane is such a good girl in bed. When we first fucked she was so shy, so childlike. It was almost perverse but so exciting to fuck a young little thing like she was... And I taught her good things, don't you think?" The doctor looked at Sherlock expectantly. "Come on, say it. Admit you were rather surprised when you two fucked behind my back. It surprised you to see her doing things she never did before."

Sherlock said nothing. He was not going to admit such thing.

Not out loud.

Because Matthew was right. Sherlock had been surprised to see Jane doing things she never did before. She wasn't that shy, little woman she had been before. She was now a woman who knew what and how she wanted it and Sherlock never complained, not like he wanted to - but Doctor Morstan was right.

Sherlock knew he had possessed everything Jane had.

And that, up to some moment, only belonged to him, to Sherlock.

This was perverse.

"The young little thing grew up and now she's a woman," Matthew continued. "She knows what I like. She knows where and how to touch me," Matthew smiled darkly. "And we fit together so well. It's like my cock was made for her always so tight pussy."

The detective felt the anger growing inside him.

"Do you know what else I love, besides her pure body, how delicious she tastes, the way she feels every time I fill her up with my cock and how good she makes me feel when she touches me, when she takes me with her mouth and doesn't let me go until I come?" the doctor laughed.

"Don't -"

"I love the way your children prefer me to you. Isn't it funny? Not only their mother prefers me to you, but they do as well."

Sherlock clenched his teeth. "Don't you dare -"

"I was present when Locky walked his first steps and said his first word," Matthew said, cutting Sherlock off. "They call me 'Dad' sometimes and you can't imagine how good it feels... how good it feels to be more _wanted_ and more _loved_ than you."

"This is madness."

"You'd better keep off the grass and sign those divorce papers. Because if that Moran bloke you keep talking about doesn't kill you soon, I'll do it myself."

"You won't do it," Sherlock said calmly.

Matthew smiled sarcastically. "Really? What makes you think so?"

"You're not clever."

"Am I not? You bloody well know that's not true, Sherlock. If I hadn't had the brains," Matthew said smoothly. "Jane wouldn't be by my side."

Sherlock frowned. "Why lying to her? A brain tumour doesn't make any difference. She would still prefer you, with our without any illness."

"And you told her about it."

"Naturally."

Matthew smiled darkly. "And she didn't believe you."

Sherlock said nothing.

"It's you against me," the doctor said, standing up. "Don't underestimate a man in love because I'm capable of doing anything for Jane."

"Like drugging her to have sex?" Sherlock asked sarcastically. "Please. I could have done the same without it."

"Could you?" Matthew laughed. "Could you have made her come countless times like I did? I fucked her so hard until she fell unconscious and I dig my fingers on her hipbones and I left marks," the doctor said perversely. "I can make her go wet by only using my voice, can you do that?" The doctor's eyes darkened. "Don't forget she was carrying my child. How does that feel?"

Sherlock's hands curled into fists. " _Was_. She might have carried your child, but she _gave_ me two. And that's what infuriates you," the detective stood just inches apart from the doctor. "knowing she gave me _two_ and she can't give you _any._ "

But Matthew, far from being angry as Sherlock expected, only smiled. "One. She gave you _one_ , remember? Because Hamish isn't your child. And that's what infuriates you," Matthew licked his lips. "It infuriates you to see him growing and looking nothing like you. But well, why would he look like you if you're not his biological father?"

Sherlock stared blankly at him.

"Sam Sawyer, the cocaine, you pushing her down the stairs... Jane told me everything. You think that telling her how much you love her and that you can't live without her will make Jane change her mind about you? This is the basest sentimentality. This is a child at prayer... you're _pathetic_!" Matthew hissed angrily. "You pretend to have changed and to own something that makes up for the horrors you did to her. But they are a part of you, and they will never go away." the doctor smiled darkly. "And if you ever go back together, which I doubt, you will always remember that. Because every time she looks at the scars you left on her body she cries. Every time Hamish struggles to understand something she curses your name."

The detective narrowed his grey icy eyes. "She might be yours, but every time she looks at our children she thinks of me. She is still my wife and she loves me. You know it."

"You can't read me."

"What?"

"You heard me clearly," Matthew answered. "You've been looking at me since I set foot in this place and you can't find anything. Don't panic, brat."

Sherlock clenched his teeth. "I don't need to use my skills on you to know who you are."

"Who am I then?"

"A monster."

"You brought this monster," the doctor replied. "Stay away from her because I swear I'll kill you."

The detective watched the doctor leaving and then glanced at the papers. Everything was in order, everything was legal. There was even a sheet of paper with Jane's signature in which she resigned all her rights over the properties she owned since she got married to him. She was not asking for more money than for the children's school fees and nothing else. There were more papers in which was stipulated Locky and Hamish were to live with her and spend the weekends at their father's.

This was for real then.

Jane wanted the divorce.

* * *

 

Another crime scene. Another body. Three walls painted with animal blood and a message left for him on the wall.

**GET SHERLOCK**

The woman lying dead on the floor had been asphyxiated to death. Around her neck, a half knitting scarf.

"Nothing was taken," Greg said whilst Sherlock knelt next to the dead old lady and examined her body. "The granddaughter found her."

There were no fingerprints, not a single hair, nor a footprint. The lock had not been picked. The victim let her killer in.

And there was a familiar smell on the air.

"Are you done, freak?" Anderson asked impatiently. "We need to take her -"

"Ah, Anderson. Still cheating on the wife?"

The forensic specialist turned to Greg. "You didn't need to call him."

"Anderson -"

"He's contaminating the crime scene!"

Sherlock sniffed the old lady's wrist.

Racy.

Familiar.

Sherlock remembered his little blog on the identification of perfumes.

_Kasbah Nights._

Mrs Hudson.

A police officer ran into the crime scene. "Detective Inspector, there's been an explosion at -"

"Baker Street," Sherlock finished the sentence.

His phone went off.

**Gas leak at 221 A Baker Street - MH**

* * *

It felt like three years ago. Sherlock got into Greg's car and both and several police officers went to Baker Street.

The vestibule was a mess. Sherlock ran inside his landlady's flat and found it completely destroyed. The framed pictures were on the floor. The yarn balls Mrs Hudson kept on a special basket close to her chair were nothing but burned.

Sherlock found Mrs Hudson's lifeless body.

His phone went off.

**She should have been more careful - SM**


	37. Missing

_"They are my children. I have rights."_

_"I don't want them to die," Jane snapped back. "They are not safe here."_

_Sherlock took her hand. "I can protect you -"_

_"And look where Mrs Hudson is now!" Jane yelled. "Buried six feet under! She was like a mother to us, Sherlock. And look where she's now!"_

* * *

"Congratulations, Doctor Watson," a paediatric nurse said to Jane happily.

Jane frowned. "Thanks?"

And then Doctor Marshall.

"Tell Matthew congratulations," the doctor said. "He's a very talented doctor and he deserved it."

Jane faked a smile because that's all she could do.

But that morning every nurse and doctor congratulated her for something Jane did not know about. Everyone said 'congratulations' and Jane wondered why this was happening. She was not pregnant, they hadn't told anyone about their marriage - though most people knew they were engaged to get married soon.

"Matthew? Can we talk?"

"Sure," the doctor smiled. "But first, close the door."

They were at his office. Jane did as she had been told and walked towards the doctor, who was sitting on his chair, his arms on either sides and smiling happily.

"Matt, everyone's been saying 'congratulations' all day long," Jane said and leaned on his desk. "What's going on?"

The doctor smiled even more.

"Love, come here."

Jane sat on his lap.

Matthew ran a hand over her sandy hair and cupped her face. He pressed a soft kiss to her lips and smiled at her. "We _must_ celebrate."

"What is it Matt?"

"I've been offered a position as a Associate Director of the Paediatric Residence Program."

Her eyes lit up. She smiled at him and threw her arms around his neck. "That's amazing!"

"At the University of Chicago."

Jane's smile disappeared from her face.

"I can't believe it, baby. I..." The doctor trailed off and turned his computer on. "I got the call today. They are offering me a position I've never dreamt of," Matthew smiled. "God, I can't believe it."

She remained silent.

"It's a good opportunity, darling. It's three hundred thousand dollars a year."

"But... You'll have to leave."

"Not without you." The doctor held her hand. "I made some phone calls and you can finish your studies and work there too," he smiled at her, whilst Jane showed no emotion whatsoever. "We can start our family there. You'll live as a queen, Jane."

Jane frowned. "But -"

"Look here," Matthew said, showing Jane pictures of a lovely house with a big backyard. It was a typical American house, big, with more than five rooms, circled with a white fence and with a garage big enough for two or three cars. "This will be our new home. The children will have each their room, we'll get a new car and I'll hire people to help us with the cleaning and a nanny for the children so we can focus on our jobs." Matthew kissed her. "There's a very good school for Hamish too -"

"Matt, wait. You're... You're buying a house, a new car..." Jane looked at him. "You never asked me if I wanted to go."

The doctor's mouth was slightly opened.

"This is amazing," Jane whispered. "I know it's very important to you -"

"Jane, you think I want to go?" Matthew cut her off. "Do you think I _want_ to go and leave our country, our friends, everything?"

Jane said nothing. It as a very good opportunity for Matthew, and she knew it. Being an associate director of a residency program at a university was a very high and important position. And Matthew Morstan was merely thirty-six. Reaching his forties, being so young, and having been offered such position was incredible. It was a chance she knew he would never get again.

And it was good for her too. There was a job offer for her as well and she knew she could continue her studies there. The University of Chicago was a very prestigious university.

But the idea terrified her. They would have to move not to another neighbourhood but to another country, to the States. To a very different place with a different culture.

And what about the children? When would they see their father?

"This is... This is our chance to start again, to start our family away from Sherlock and his madness," The doctor's eyes darkened. "I can't bear to see him close to you any more." Matthew placed his hands on her hipbones. "It's not about me. It's about _us_. I don't think I will ever get another chance like this one and... This is very important to me as a doctor. And there's a good job for you too." The doctor smiled at her. "I haven't said yes _yet_. I want to go after my surgery. I'm planning to sell the house and the car and take you and our children with me."

"Let me think about it."

"Think?" Matthew asked.

Jane nodded. "It's Chicago, Matthew! It's not like we're moving to... I don't know... another neighbourhood. We're moving to the States! To another continent! And I still haven't divorced and -"

"You want to stay because of him, don't you?" Matthew asked darkly. "Why are you doing this to me, darling?" the doctor pushed Jane until she was lying with her back on his desk. "You belong to me, baby."

Jane frowned. "Matthew -"

Matthew pulled her legs apart. " God, Jane. Why are you doing this to me?" He thrust his hips forwards and bent down to kiss her lips fiercely. "I worked so hard to get that job. Just for you and our children," the doctor slid a hand under her shirt. "You can't do this to me. You just can't. It's not _fair_ for me."

Jane kissed him back. "Matthew..." she took a deep breath and looked into his dark blue eyes. "I want you."

"Then be with me. You'll have _everything_ , I promise," the doctor bit her lip. "A big house, your own car..." Matthew ripped her shirt open and pulled her bra down. "We can start again... get the boys a dog... be happy just you, me and _our_ children."

Jane closed her eyes when she felt Matthew's tongue teasing her nipples. "Yes."

"Do say _yes_ , baby," the doctor said as he unzipped her trousers and slid a hand under her clothes. "Do you like this?" He asked darkly as he started teasing the most intimate place of her body.

"Yes."

The doctor chuckled. "You're so wet, love. I wish I could fuck you here. Now. Make you scream my name 'till I come inside you. 'Till I fill you with my come," Matthew took her hand and pressed it to his own hardness. "Feel how hard you make me, how my body needs you."

"I need you."

Matthew smiled darkly. "I've got patients to see... But tonight... Tonight I'm going to make you feel so good," the doctor kissed her lips softly. "Tonight I'll be in charge and I'm going to possess all of you."

"Oh God, yes." Jane panted softly.

"That's my girl..." Matthew helped her with her shirt. "I'll see you tonight, OK?"

"OK," Jane replied and kissed him softly. "But still... I want to think about it, Matt. I'm going with you... but let me think about it."

He nodded and caressed her cheek lovingly. "Of course. I love you."

* * *

 

They were covering the coffin. Sherlock watched Jane crying, pressing a tissue to her nose and resting her head on Doctor Morstan's shoulder. Then, the detective's grey eyes fell on her hand. Morstan was holding her hand and their fingers were entangled together.

There were Jane, Doctor Morstan, Mr and Mrs Holmes, Mycroft, Greg, Mrs Turner, the old ladies from the knitting club and obviously, Mrs Hudson's sister.

It was a cold day.

Sherlock watched Doctor Morstan whispering to Jane's ear and leaving the place. In a couple of minutes the only ones left were Jane and Sherlock.

"How are they?"

Jane's eyes were on the headstone in front of them. "Both cried. Hamish is... he's calm. But Locky hasn't talked since... since I told them about it."

Sherlock remained silent.

"Mrs Hudson was like a Grandmother to them," Jane whispered. "And she was like a mother to me," she pressed a tissue to her eyes.

The detective said nothing. He knew how important Mrs Hudson had been not only for Jane but for their children as well. And the landlady had been very important for him too. She had been like a mother to him when he left his parents' house and moved to Baker Street with Jane. She was more than a landlady, more than a housekeeper, more than an old lady who liked to bake cakes and knit things for their children.

"Was it... Is Moran behind all this?"

"It was a gas leak," Sherlock replied. "According to Lestrade's team."

Jane turned to him. "And to you?"

"It _was_ Moran."

She looked around and saw no one was close. Not even Matthew.

"We're moving," Jane said softly. "To the States," she bit her lip when she realised Sherlock's piercing eyes were on her. "Matthew's been offered a position at the University of Chicago and I'll continue studying there too," she felt Sherlock's intense gaze on her. "We're moving at the end of January, after Locky's birthday."

The very same day Matthew told her about moving to the States, Greg called her and told her about Mrs Hudson's death. Jane cried even more than she did when her mother and her sister died. Mrs Hudson had been like a mother to her, like the mother she didn't have but needed when she became a mother for the first time. Mrs Hudson helped her when she needed a piece of advice when Hamish wouldn't stop crying or when he was ill and she was alone.

Mrs Hudson became her mother, the grandmother of her children and the one who told her Sherlock was indeed very sorry for what he had done and that they should go back together.

Jane hesitated so much after Matthew told her about moving to the States. But after knowing Mrs Hudson had died, apparently because of a 'gas leak', Jane knew it had not been an accident. It had been more than that.

So Jane decided they should definitely move and go far away because apparently that was the only way her children could be safe.

"And obviously you're taking _my_ children with you."

"You'll see them. We'll come back -"

"Once a year?"

Jane nodded. "Yeah. Maybe. I don't know."

"They are my children. I have rights."

"I don't want them to die," Jane snapped back. "They are not safe here."

Sherlock took her hand. "I can protect you -"

"And look where Mrs Hudson is now!" Jane yelled. "Buried six feet under! She was like a mother to us, Sherlock. And look where she's now! And all because of -"

"Don't." Sherlock said, cutting her off.

Jane said nothing.

"I don't sleep at night thinking you and our children might be in danger. If I have to die so you are safe I will," Sherlock looked into her eyes, their lips were inches apart. "I'll do it again."

"You'll do it again and come back three years later?" Jane asked, sounding sarcastic, even when she didn't mean to.

"No," Sherlock said softly, stepping back. "I might not survive this time."

Jane took his hand and her expression softened. "Sherlock... Sherlock, don't die. Please -"

"Why? You don't love me any more," Sherlock said bitterly. "I have no reason to live for," the detective's eyes were on hers and he felt the need to kiss her lips once again.

A tear rolled down Jane's cheek. She cupped Sherlock's face and leaned forward for a kiss. "Do it for our children. Sherlock, please -"

Sherlock turned and walked away from her.

* * *

**I think it is time, don't you? - SM**

Sherlock was playing his violin when he got the text.

The detective looked at the picture of his children on the mantelpiece and at the divorce papers he had just signed when he realised he had to take a decision. Moran was not stopping the game until he died. Sherlock knew this game would end as soon as he died. It started with Jane being kidnapped, then her mother and her sister being killed, and finally Mrs Hudson. Sherlock knew Mrs Hudson hadn't died for a 'gas leak'.

Sherlock knew Moran was behind Mrs Hudson's dead.

And Sherlock knew the next ones on Moran's list were his children.

The detective knew he had to take a decision.

It was himself or his children.

**Say good bye to your children and wait for me - SM**

**How will I know it's you? - SH**

**You will know - SM**

**When? - SH**

**Soon - SM**

* * *

 

It was Friday again, and Sherlock Holmes found himself standing in front of Doctor Morstan and Jane's house.

"Ah, you," Matthew said, with distaste and opened the door for him.

Inside in the living room Hamish and Locky were already prepared, wearing their coats and each carrying their little bags with his toys. Both still looked sad. Hamish ran to him and kissed him, but Locky never said a word.

Sherlock glanced at the place and immediately knew Jane was not at home and that the doctor was eagerly waiting for him to leave.

And for the divorce papers.

"Good," Matthew said as he took the folder and glanced at the contents inside quickly, making himself sure every single paper had the required signature. "Will take them to my solicitor next Monday first thing in the morning," there was a dark smile on the doctor's face. "I knew you were going to do the right thing. Now the wedding will take place before Christmas, just like Jane wanted it."

"She won't marry you."

Matthew smiled. "She's buying her wedding dress now," the doctor turned to the boys. "Good bye," he smiled at them and pressed a kiss to their heads. "Be good boys to your daddy, OK?"

* * *

 

That night when Jane returned home after working she found her daughter already sleeping on her cot and Matthew waiting for her with a nice dinner with wine, candles and soft music.

"Candles?" Jane asked jokingly as she sat across the doctor. "Hmm, this looks good."

The doctor had prepared roasted meat and potatoes. He poured two glasses of wine and handed one to her.

"We have to make a toast."

She nodded and smiled. "To you."

"No," the doctor said softly. "To us. For our future. For our wedding. For our new life."

Jane shifted on her chair and smiled sincerely to him.

During dinner they talked about Chicago, about Hyde Park, the place were they were going to move in to, the new school for Hamish, and all the things they wanted for their new house. Matthew led the talk mostly. He told Jane all the things he had seen on the internet, such as the furniture for the new house, the car he wanted to get for him and for her, the kind of nanny he wanted to hire for the children.

"It was delicious."

He smiled. "Did you like it?"

"Yes."

The doctor got to his feet and took her hand. "Dance with me."

"I can't dance," Jane whispered, as she felt the doctor's long, strong arms around her waist and leading her to the living room. "Matt, I can't dance."

The doctor pulled her closer and put her hands on his neck and he moved his hands to her waist. "Just follow me."

The song played and in just seconds Jane smiled at the doctor and rested her head on his chest. She let out a long sigh and closed her eyes, feeling secure, warm in those long, strong arms around her, embracing her, keeping her safe form any harm.

The light was minimal. They were almost alone, dancing together in silence and just feeling their hearts beating together.

Matthew kissed her. "I'm proud of you, Jane."

She giggled against his chest. "Why are you proud of me? _I'm_ proud of you. You've got the job of your dreams and you're the best doctor I've ever known."

"I'm proud of you because I've seen you growing," Matthew said, lifting her chin with his index finger and looking straight into her blue eyes. "When we first met you were a little woman who didn't believe in herself," he kissed her lips and pulled her closer. "And now you're a woman who has the world at her feet."

Jane giggled even more. "I don't have the world at my feet."

"You said I'm the world to you," Matthew whispered. "And I'm at your feet. I swear to God everything I do, I do it for you."

Suddenly, his revelation sent a shiver down her spine. Jane looked into Matthew's eyes and couldn't help but kiss him and feel nothing but tenderness for that man who was holding her tightly and whispering such sweet things to her ear.

"Why are you so good to me?" Jane asked, resting her head on his chest. "I broke your heart. I don't deserve you."

The doctor moved a hand to the back of her neck and caressed the skin there. "That belongs to the past, don't talk about it," he then pressed a kiss to her sandy hair and smiled to himself. "Let's live this moment now."

"Matt?"

"Hmm?"

"Hold me," Jane whispered, looking into his eyes. "Don't let any one hurt me again." A single tear rolled down her face.

Matthew smiled at her and wiped the tear off her face. "I won't let anyone hurt you. You're my little girl, and I'll protect you," the doctor moved his hands to her waist and caressed her belly with his thumbs. "I wish I had protected it."

Jane knew he meant their baby.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't say sorry, love," Matthew kissed her and smiled at her lovingly. "It wasn't your fault. It was no one's fault. Maybe... maybe it wasn't in our destiny to become parents together."

Jane kissed him. "But we're parents already. We've got Sophie."

"You're right," he smiled and took her hand. "Come with me."

Once they were in their room, the doctor attacked Jane's mouth. He kissed her softly, very softly whilst pushing her against the wall and unzipping her jeans and pulling at her shirt. Jane closed her eyes and let him undress her and soon her hands were on his trousers, on his belt, on his shirt, trying to undress him quickly.

"Will you let me make love to you tonight?" The doctor asked so softly. "Make you mine as if there's no tomorrow?"

Jane smiled at him and let him take her bra off. "I'm yours."

"Are you?"

"Yes," Jane kissed him and touched his already throbbing member. "Are you asking for permission like the first time?"

He smiled back. "You're so fragile, so little in my arms," he whispered and pushed her very softly until she was lying on her back and he was over her, between her thighs. "So little in my arms," he repeated. "It's sinful. Almost perverse."

"Sinful? Perverse?" Jane giggled. "What are you talking about?"

"I love you."

She kissed him.

"Jane, I need you to know everything I do, I do it for you, baby," Matthew whispered as he started to tease her entrance with his fingers. "Since I met you... everything I did since then has been for you, to keep you and our children safe."

She melted under his touch. "I know."

"And I'll do anything you want. Anything."

Jane bit her lower lip. "God, Matthew... You're so good to me."

The doctor smiled and took one of her nipples into his mouth. "You're so little in my arms that sometimes I fear I might hurt you. And I don't want that," he whispered. "I want to make love to you softly and slowly and I want it to last forever."

"I need you."

"This is what define us, Jane. When we're one, we're perfect together," the doctor bit her nipple. "I'd gladly die here with you, right now."

Jane closed her eyes in pleasure and hissed.

"You're everything I want," the doctor pressed sloppy kisses down to her stomach until he was licking the most intimate place of her body. "You taste so good... you were made for me. Only for me."

"Matt..."

He took her hand and made her stroke his member. "Be mine forever."

"Matthew please."

The doctor placed himself over her, between her thighs and kissed her tenderly whilst teasing her entrance with his member. "I love you."

He sunk into her, slowly.

Jane threw her head back and circled his neck with her fragile arms. "Matt!"

He moved very slowly until he was completely inside her and then stopped to look into her eyes.

"Jane, my love... I can feel you."

"I can..." Jane whispered and smiled at him, looking almost intoxicated. "God, I can feel you."

He remained inside her.

"Why are you so little in my arms?" He asked as he caressed her cheeks and kissed her lips. "So little, so tight, so small and tiny..." Matthew held her hands above her head over the pillows and both entangled their fingers.

Jane kissed him. "Move, please."

Matthew moved out and inside her very slowly, almost painfully. "Jane, you drive me crazy."

She closed her eyes and sighed. "Like that..."

"I loved you since the first moment," Matthew whispered to her ear. "You have to promise me you'll always be mine."

Jane didn't say anything. Both kept moving, in unison, moaning each other's name, kissing, biting each other's lips, devouring each other. Matthew continued moving inside and out of her slowly, hard, hurting Jane just like he knew she liked it.

Because she liked to be hurt.

Maybe it was the mix between the pain and the pleasure that intoxicated Jane every time they were together in bed. Maybe it was the fact that the doctor doubled her weight and was nothing but long, very strong toned limbs and fierce lips. Maybe it was the fact that he looked a lot like the man she loved, who was the father of her children. Maybe what made her feel love for the man who was making love to her was that Matthew loved her just like Sherlock did.

Maybe it was because of the doctor's promises.

Jane felt so little underneath him, so powerless, so tiny. But at the same time, when she felt dominated, almost devoured, Jane also felt loved.

Or maybe it was an illusion.

"I'm close," Matthew whispered to her ear. "Love, I'm close."

Jane opened her eyes and looked into his.

And the man above her wasn't Matthew Morstan, but Sherlock Holmes.

"Yes, love," she purred. "Come for me," Jane kissed him tenderly, very tenderly and lovingly. "Do it."

The doctor kissed her back and pounded hard into her until both came together.

"I love you so much," Matthew held her hand and laced their fingers. He kissed her engagement ring and then smiled. "I love you. I swear on my children that I love you with all my heart and that I want to die with you."

She sat next to him and kissed him. "Don't say that."

"I want you to be the last thing I see."

Jane faked a smile and kissed him passionately. "Don't say that, Matt."

"It's the truth," the doctor said bitterly. "I want to die next to you. I want you to be the last thing I see."

* * *

 

"Dad," Hamish drank his milk. "Is Nan Hudson in Heaven?"

Sherlock knew he would never understand those concepts, Heaven and Hell.

But God, Hamish was such a curious child.

"Yes."

"Cos she was good, right?"

Sherlock bit his lip. "Because." The detective turned to his son. "Say 'Because'."

Hamish looked at him clueless.

"Don't say 'cos'," Sherlock explained. "You're a grown boy and you ought to speak well. Say 'because'."

The boy looked miserable. "Because."

Sherlock didn't see that.

No one tells you how to be a good parent.

Both boys remained silent for the rest of the breakfast.

And for the rest of the morning.

Sherlock was so lost into his own thoughts, so focused on how Sebastian Moran would appear, what he would do, how the game would continue that he sat with his laptop on the kitchen table and ignored the hours passing by until he saw Hamish opening the fridge and pulling out milk and trying to pour some into Locky's bottle.

Hamish seemed alarmed as soon as he realised his daddy's grey eyes were on him. "It's for Locky!"

Sherlock frowned. "What time is it?"

The detective looked at his watch. It was five in the afternoon.

He realised he had ignored them for more than eight hours.

Eight.

God.

"Why didn't you tell me you were hungry?"

Hamish said nothing. He handed his little brother's his bottle and both went upstairs to their room.

It didn't take much until Sherlock heard them crying, trying to keep their sobs from him. Both were hiding themselves from him.

Sherlock stood behind the closed door and listened to their whispers.

"Please Locky, I'm hungry."

"No! Go ask Dad!"

"But he's angry..." He sobbed. "Please Locky."

Sherlock waited. And it seemed Locky let Hamish drink a bit of his milk.

"Mish... why you cryin'?"

"Cos-" the boy sobbed softly. " _Because_ I miss Nan Hudson and I don't wanna -" Sherlock wasn't even in the room, but he could feel Hamish struggling with his ow words and trying to speak properly as he had been insisting in the morning. "I don't _want_ Dad to be angry with me."

Sherlock felt his own heart breaking.

"Why Dad angry?"

"Because I can't speak well... but I can't, Locky. I wanna - I _want_ to be clever for Daddy so he loves me more but I can't."

Sherlock opened the door softly and walked towards the boys. He found them both curled together sitting on the the edge of the bed. Locky was playing with the empty bottle and Hamish was looking at the floor, not meeting Sherlock's gaze. Hamish's eyes were red and his cheeks had tears.

It broke Sherlock's heart.

"I'm not angry with you."

"Yes you are," Hamish said, burying his face on a pillow.

"I'm not."

"Yes! You're angry with me cos-" Hamish bit his own lip. " _Because_ I can't speak well like you."

Sherlock rubbed his son's back very softly and then let Locky sit on his lap. "I apologise if I made you feel _sad,_ " Sherlock said, lacking of more proper words. "If I made you feel bad. And for not feeding you."

Both boys remained silent.

"I'm sorry."

Neither said a word.

"I don't know how to do this." Sherlock admitted. "You didn't come with a textbook when you were born. I apologise if what I do is not the expected from you." The detective took a deep breath. "I'm sorry."

Locky kissed his cheek. "We want Nan Hudson."

"We miss Nan Hudson, Dad," Hamish said softly.

"You don't hate me?"

Both shook their heads.

No.

God.

"You angry, Dad?"

"I'm not angry with you. I would never be. I merely want to help you to improve your speech skills," Sherlock said as he let his older son curl next to him. "I'm... I'm sorry for not feeding you."

Both kids' stomachs growled.

The three of them laughed.

"I'll order some chinese."

* * *

 

Sherlock was sitting on a park bench on a not so cold Sunday morning, watching his children playing with other kids when a woman sat next to him.

"Won't he be angry if he sees you with me?"

Jane took Sophie from the pushchair and started feeding her a bottle. "He's working."

"What are you doing here?"

Jane handed Sherlock a white envelope.

The detective opened it. There was a picture of their children, and Sophie, and each of them had a number written with red marker.

"What does it mean, Sherlock?"

"He's going to -"

There was an explosion at the park.

Suddenly, there was a grey cloud and Sherlock jumped over Jane. He covered her body with his and waited for a couple of seconds. People were running to and fro. Both Jane and Sherlock listened to the children's cry. It was a nice Sunday and the park was filled with children and their parents.

"Sherlock!"

The detective got to his feet and looked at Jane.

Sophie was nowhere to be seen.

"Sophie! My baby -"

"Jane, calm down."

There were tears in Jane's eyes.

"The boys!" Jane cried and started looking everywhere. "Hamish and Locky!"

They were nowhere to be seen.

And suddenly Sherlock and Jane were standing together, watching people running, kids screaming and their children were missing.

Hamish, Locky and Sophie were gone.

The three of them were missing.


	38. Standing On the Edge

_"Dad...?"_

_Sherlock gasped. "Hamish? Where are you?"_

_"Dad... look up..."_

_The detective looked at the roof. Both children were standing together at the edge of Bart's roof. Both children were standing exactly at the edge of Bart's rooftop were Sherlock had jumped off three years ago._

* * *

Hamish and Locky were sitting together and between them was their little sister. Sophie was crawling between their brother's laps, sucking her little thumb and making funny noises with her mouth and her thumb.

The oldest knew something was wrong.

They were locked in a room with no windows. There was nothing but a small little carpet where they were all sitting together. Neither of them knew how they got there, but Locky and Hamish, being older than Sophie who was no more than six months old, knew where they were was not home.

Their presence was what made a contrast to the place where they were. It was cold, silent, almost dark... it was frightening. But they were wearing colourful clothes, Sophie was giggling because apparently she had found her little fingers funny and Locky was trying to play with her. Hamish was the only one staring at the closed door and wondering how they got there, why they were locked in a room and where their parents were.

"Where is Dad, Mish?"

The boy kissed his little brother's cheek. "Dad will come soon."

* * *

 

The Doctor drove as fast as he could. He was in the middle of his lunch break when Greg called and told him about he explosion at the park and that the boys were missing.

"Jane!" Matthew ran into his house and found Jane sitting on a chair in the kitchen, crying. "Jane, darling!"

Sherlock was there too.

"Jane, darling?" the doctor asked as he sat next to her. "Love, calm down."

Jane couldn't stop crying.

"How did it happen?" Matthew asked, this time to Sherlock. "How could you lose the children!"

"The children were _taken_. I did not lose them." Sherlock corrected.

Matthew's eyes widened. "What?!"

Jane buried her face in the doctor's chest. "Matthew... they took Sophie too..." she whispered and Matthew gasped.

"What?!" he looked at her and then at Sherlock. "How? How they took the boys and our daughter?" Matthew asked angrily.

Matthew knew the boys were with Sherlock. It was a Sunday morning, almost noon, and the boys never returned home till five in the afternoon. Therefore, the kids were with Sherlock at the moment it happened. But Sophie was with Jane...

Jane panicked. "Matthew I went to see Sherlock because I was sent this," Jane showed him the picture of the boys and Sophie with numbers written over their faces. "I didn't know what to do!"

The doctor walked towards Sherlock and pushed him against a wall. "This is all your fault, you bastard!"

"Matt -"

"You bastard!" Matthew's hands were on the detective's neck. "I told you to keep off the grass!"

Sherlock couldn't do much. Doctor Morstan had strong arms and he felt himself breathless as he had two hands around his neck.

"Matt stop it!" Jane tried to shout.

The doctor stepped back and ran a hand over his face.

"Are you OK?" Jane asked Sherlock and then turned to the doctor. "For God's sake can you two stop it! The children are missing and you just want to fight?"

"This wouldn't have happened if it hadn't been for him," Matthew said angrily. "They were fine without him! Everything was fine before him -"

" _STOP IT!_ " Jane bellowed angrily, cutting him off.

Jane was leaning against the counter. She covered her face with her hands, but Sherlock saw it. Sherlock saw the look in Matthew's eyes. The doctor was looking at Jane angrily.

Sherlock saw the anger behind those blue eyes.

" _Baby_ , I'm sorry," Matthew whispered as he walked towards her and finally kissed her cheek. "I'm so sorry, Jane. Forgive me."

Sherlock watched the scene before him. The doctor was acting as if he was not there. And the detective watched the doctor's hands on Jane's waist moving under her shirt and caressing the skin of her back.

He was doing it on purpose.

Jane rejected his touch.

Sherlock cleared his throat. "Lestrade said he's looking at different places and Mycroft's checking all the CCTV footage."

"I..." Jane let out along sigh. "I can't just sit here and wait, Sherlock. They are my children."

"I know," Sherlock glanced at his phone. "They are my children as well."

"Not Sophia," Matthew said. "She's _our_ daughter and _I_ 'll find her."

Sherlock curled his lips upwards. "Oh, God." He said sarcastically.

"My daughter is God knows where and you're laughing!"

Jane turned to Sherlock. "Sherlock, stop it -"

"I'm laughing because you're _pathetic_ ," Sherlock said, looking at Matthew's straight in the eye. "You're trying to find an argument to make Jane hate me by all means, even using your own daughter."

"How dare you!"

Jane stepped between them. "STOP IT!"

"And what if you did this, uh?" Matthew asked angrily. "You faked your own death. I bet you faked the kidnapping to then find them and make yourself look like the hero here." The doctor's dark blue eyes were on Jane. "I told you he was _mental_."

"Matthew, they are his children! Sherlock would have never -"

"The thief think everyone else is a thief," Sherlock said and took his mobile off his pocket. "I don't need to kidnap my own children to make myself look like a hero, but you needed to drug her to have sex with you."

Jane's gasped. "What... what are you talking about?"

"Get the hell out of my house!" Matthew yelled. "Leave -"

Sherlock pressed the play button.

_"I wish we could... I wish we could go back in time... I would have never hurt you."_

_"I know."_

_"I wish I'd been the first man in your life... The very first man to show you what love is... And the only one to have the privilege to possess your pure, beautiful body."_

_"I wish you have been my first man. The only one."_

Jane's eyes were as wide as saucers whilst listening to the recording on Sherlock's phone, while listening to Matthew's voice... to herself panting and moaning.

_"Don't you wish I was the father of your children?"  
_

_"I wish you were the father of my children."_

_"Because I love your children as if they were mine."_

_"Ahhh... yes!"_

Jane turned to Matthew. "HOW COULD YOU?!"

"That's... He must have put a microphone -"

Sherlock fast-forwarded the recording to the end.

_"I think I have just given you a very good proof of how good we are together... next time you mess up with them, I'll send you a video so you see her beautiful face when I bring her to climax. Keep off the grass."_

"Jane, baby -"

She slapped him hard across the face. Her eyes were filled with tears and she felt her heart breaking inside her.

"You're sick!" Jane cried.

"Oh, but there's more." Sherlock said, pressing the play button.

_"She's mine. There's no inch of skin I haven't touched or kissed. All her body, all of it is mine. I've possessed everything. Everything. And I rather love her mouth. She can take my cock so easily. She quite knows how to please a man, doesn't she? And she's so flexible. She's always eager to try new things...My Jane is such a good girl in bed. When we first fucked she was so shy, so childlike. It was almost perverse but so exciting to fuck a young little thing like she was... And I taught her good things, don't you think? Come on, say it. Admit you were rather surprised when you two fucked behind my back. It surprised you to see her doing things she never did before...The young little thing grew up and now she's a woman... She knows what I like. She knows where and how to touch me... And we fit together so well. It's like my cock was made for her always so tight pussy."_

Jane pressed a hand to her mouth. If what she had heard before, she having sex with Matthew had broken her heart, now listening to Matthew talking like that about her, about their private life so easily made her feel sick. It made Jane remember the time she faced Sam Sawyer again, when he called her and said such nasty things to her.

And Sherlock fast-forwarded the record to the most important part, to where Matthew Morstan confessed he wasn't ill, that there was no brain tumour.

_"You'd better keep off the grass and sign those divorce papers. Because if that Moran bloke you keep talking about doesn't kill you soon, I'll do it myself."_

_"You won't do it."_

_"Really? What makes you think so?"_

_"You're not clever."_

_"Am I not? You bloody well know that's not true, Sherlock. If I hadn't had the brains. Jane wouldn't be by my side."_

_"Why lying to her? A brain tumour doesn't make any difference. She would still prefer you, with our without any illness."_

_"And you told her about it."_

_"Naturally."_

_"And she didn't believe you. It's you against me... Don't underestimate a man in love because I'm capable of doing anything for Jane."_

Matthew remained silent. He was pressing a hand to his cheek when a single tear rolled down his face.

Jane gasped in horror. "How could you?" she whispered. "Oh my God, how could you lie to me like that?!"

"Baby -"

"DON'T 'BABY' ME!" Jane bellowed. "You're a fucking liar!"

The doctor tried to touch her but Jane stepped back. "Jane, darling, please let me explain!"

"You lied to me -" she gasped, feeling herself breathless. "How could you?"

Sherlock watched the scene before him enjoying the look in the doctor's face. He was enjoying watching him suffer as much as he suffered when he had to listen to them having sex, to Jane moaning, panting Matthew's name, her noises, her voice screaming his name. But now Sherlock was enjoying watching that man he hated suffering.

The detective knew he had to restore some balance to the universe that had taken so much from his life. He wasn't going to stand it any more: seeing Jane loving another man, seeing his children calling 'Dad' another man, and seeing this same man, Matthew Morstan, hurting Jane and making himself look like the victim.

Who is the lamb here?

"Jane..."

She shook her head. "I'm... I'm going with Greg," she looked at the doctor. "I don't want to see you again."

Both men watched her getting her coat and leaving.

Sherlock curled his lips slightly upwards.

"You're a bastard."

His mobile went off.

**Don't worry, Daddy. The three are safe - SM**

Sherlock felt relieved inside.

"You're a dead man, Sherlock Holmes," Matthew said angrily. "I swear I'll kill you. You'll regret this," the doctor's hands curled into fists. "I'll make you beg for your life."

**You got 24hs. It's your life or theirs - SM**

"I'd like to see you trying."

Oh, Sherlock.

* * *

 

Sherlock was sitting on his chair, his hands glued together under his chin, his mobile sitting on his lap and the clock was ticking. The darkness of the place suggested nothing but ignorance. The detective knew nothing about this case, about this game. He got a few hours left and he knew nothing.

_Nothing._

The only clue he had was the picture Jane had got: it was a picture of the three children all together. Hamish and Locky were sitting together on a sofa, both smiling to the camera and sitting between them was Sophie. Each child had a number written with red marker. Hamish had a '1', Locky a '2' and Sophie a '3'. Was it the order in which they would be hurt? Was it the order in which they would appear?

What was it?

Sherlock knew nothing about Jane. Greg only called him and after telling him they had searched most of the empty places around the park and that they were still waiting for Mycroft's own investigation team to send them any evidences of where the children could be, the Detective Inspector told him Jane was with him and safe.

He didn't know what was going to happen after this. Sherlock knew Jane was angry and that probably she was going to break her engagement to Doctor Morstan but yet there was a baby in the middle. Sophia was their daughter and it wasn't still official and they didn't have the papers. Sophia wasn't their daughter legally speaking. But Sherlock knew Jane loved her. And Doctor Morstan loved her as well.

And Sherlock still didn't know if he was going to survive.

**Your life of theirs. Have you decided? - SM**

Sherlock frowned.

**You already know my answer - SH**

**Just thought you'd like to make a deal - SM**

**You kill me and you give the kids back to their mother - SH**

**Don't be obtuse - SM**

**What's your deal? - SH**

**You can save your children and give yourself to me so I can kill you however I want not before torturing you and making you feel the real pain - SM**

**And Sophia? - SH**

**She's not your daughter - SM**

**It's the three of them or there's no deal - SH**

**I am the one who sets the rules here. Now if you don't want them to fall... go to where you should have died - SM**

Sherlock picked up his coat and ran downstairs to the streets.

* * *

When Sherlock arrived at the place his phone went off.

_"Dad...?"_

Sherlock gasped. "Hamish? Where are you?"

_"Dad... look up..."_

The detective looked at the roof. Both children were standing together at the edge of Bart's roof. Hamish and Locky were standing exactly at the edge of Bart's rooftop were Sherlock had jumped off tree years ago.

God.

Greg and several police cars arrived immediately. Sherlock watched Jane and Matthew getting out of Greg's car together.

_Something was wrong._

"Hamish!" Jane screamed.

Sherlock took a deep breath. His heart was pounding fast within his chest and he didn't know what to do. Jane's eyes were filled with tears and she was pressing a hand to her mouth.

Suddenly he felt the same fear Jane felt when three years ago he was standing exactly at the same point their children were now on the edge of Bart's rooftop.

It hurt.

God, it hurt.

"Hamish," Sherlock kept looking at them from the pavement. "It's OK, Dad will go now... step back very slowly -"

 _"But I can't,"_ Hamish, said fearfully. _"the man said we have to stay here till you picked us up."_

Sherlock nodded. "I'll go, OK? You stay there and _don't_ move."

_"Dad... we're scared..."_

"Don't be! I'm going right now!"

Sherlock turned to Greg. "Prepare something on the pavement."

"Sherlock, please you've got to save them -" Jane gasped. "Oh my God, my babies!"

The detective said nothing. He run into the building hoping no one had hurt his children because he would never forgive himself if something bad had happened to either of them. Sebastian Moran was dangerous and he had already proved so by killing Jane's mother and sister, Mrs Hudson and now kidnapping the children and making them stand on the edge of a tall building.

It only took Sherlock couple of minutes until he got to the rooftop. He opened the door and found his children still standing on the edge, freezing, looking fearful and both crying.

Sherlock ran to them and quickly pulled them close to him and off the edge, but Locky stumbled.

Locky was practically hanging off the edge of the building.

"DAD!"

Sherlock pushed Hamish off the edge and held Locky's hand tightly. "It's OK! I've got you!"

"DAD!" Locky cried. "DAD!"

Without even looking down Sherlock knew there were several eyes on them.

The detective helped his little son and finally fell on the floor of the rooftop with him.

Locky cried against his chest. Sherlock could feel his little heart pounding very fast within his chest. He was scared, very scared and no matter how much Sherlock rubbed his back or kissed his curls, Locky wouldn't stop crying.

"It's OK... don't cry," Sherlock tried to say and sound reassuringly, even when he knew he couldn't stop crying and even when he didn't know what they had seen while they were captive. "Dad's here."

The detective turned when he saw Jane on the roof. She had tears in her eyes and as soon as she saw her children she hugged them tightly.

"My babies..." she kissed them both. "Are you OK? Are you hurt?"

"Sophie!" Locky cried between sobs.

Sherlock frowned. "Where's your sister?"

"The man said he was going to kill her, Dad!" Hamish said, with tears in his eyes. "He's gonna kill Sophie!"

**Battersea Power Station. Come alone - SM**

The detective looked at Jane and his children. Both boys were together hugging their mummy, both had tears in their eyes, as Jane. It broke Sherlock's heart. It almost killed him to see his children there, on the edge of the rooftop where he had been three years ago. Looking at them so close to death made Sherlock realise what he had to do.

"Go and stay with Greg," Sherlock said, standing up and pressing a kiss to each of his children.

Jane took his hand. "Sherlock?"

"Go with Greg," he repeated. "I know where Sophia is."

Jane closed the space between them and cupped the detective's face with her slender hands. "Sherlock... don't - please don't leave us again."

Sherlock's eyes fell on hers and finally on her lips. He circled her waist with only one arm and pulled her even closer. Their lips were inches apart when the detective held her hand and finally kissed her.

Both closed their eyes and kissed very softly, almost shyly.

"I love you," Sherlock whispered to Jane and pressed one last kiss to her lips. "I love you."

"I love you," Jane said to him.

Sherlock walked towards his children. "Be good boys, OK?"

Hamish and Locky nodded because they didn't know what his Dad was talking about.

"Promise me you'll look after your mother."

"I promise."

Locky hiccuped. "I promise."

Sherlock smiled at them and hugged them tightly. Both boys rested their heads on Sherlock's chest and kissed his cheek. Each boy clung to their father like they hadn't done before.

It hurt the detective to feel such honest, warm hug now that he was certain he might die.

"I love you so much," Sherlock whispered to them. "Don't ever forget I love you."

"I love you too, Dad," Hamish said.

Locky clung more to Sherlock, not letting go of him. "Not go!"

"I have to go, Locky."

The toddler looked angry. "No!"

"I love you, Sherlock," the detective said and handed him to Jane. "Do you love me?"

"Yes. I love you Dad."

Sherlock smiled bitterly. He pressed a last kiss to Jane's forehead and left.

**He might have men on everyone. Do not interfere - SH**

**I have an entire security team - MH**

**I'm going alone. Take care of them - SH**

* * *

 

The echo, the sound heard and reflected off the walls guided Sherlock to his final destination. Every step he walked, Sherlock knew was taking him to the end of the way, of the long road that started many years ago when he and Jane were merely two teenagers investigating the death of a lady in pink clothes. That was where everything started.

When Moriarty appeared in their lives.

And even when the criminal mastermind had died three years ago there was still one man left.

Sebastian Moran, Moriarty's right-hand man was out there still alive, haunting him and his family.

Sherlock walked until he found a cot with pink sheets and a crying baby inside. It made such a contrast to the place: everything was grey, silent, cold. And the cot and the baby inside were warm and her crying was the only thing breaking the silence.

Sherlock picked up Sophia in his arms and the baby girl stopped crying. He held in his arms and she giggled. It was the second time Sherlock was holding Sophia in his arms and he couldn't help but feel tenderness for that little girl. She had slightly tanned skin, bright brown eyes, dark fair hair which was slightly curly and pink tainted cheeks.

The detective knew that girl was going to be beautiful.

As beautiful as Jane was.

"You're going to be OK," Sherlock whispered to the baby in his arms. "I promise."

He tried to caress her cheek with his index finger and Sophie curled his little fingers around it.

And she giggled.

"You're so beautiful. Jane's going to be very proud of you," the detective rocked Sophia in his arms and smiled at her. "I would if I were your father."

Sherlock enjoyed the moment with Sophia and understood why his children loved her so much. The baby was beautiful and so calm, so warm and it was impossible not to smile at her.

But the moment made Sherlock blind and deaf because he didn't expect to look up and find _him_ there.

"Ah, I see you've made yourself comfortable."

Sherlock's eyes widened when he heard that voice.

"I told you," the man said walking towards him, wearing a military uniform. "But did you listen?"

Sherlock looked at the man wearing a military uniform and frowned. His heart was beating fast inside his chest and he felt he had no energy in his arms. He felt mute, as if he couldn't articulate a single word.

"Colonel Sebastian Moran," the man smiled proudly and offered his hand for the detective to shake it. "Ah, it's been ages since I last pulled rank. Nice to finally see you here, Sherlock Holmes. But oh well," Sebastian straightened his uniform. "Hello to you too, Sophia."

The baby girl giggle and extended her little arms to the man in front of her.

Sherlock couldn't articulate a word.

Moran laughed. "It's so easy to fool the Holmes' brothers, but here we are at last... Are you ready to die?"

Sherlock blinked once, twice. The man in front of him was Sebastian Moran.

He was Sebastian Moran.

This had to be a dream.

It had to be a dream.


	39. Secrets Revealed

_"I'm disappointed in you ordinary Sherlock!"_

_It took Sherlock merely seconds to remember the talk he had with Moriarty that morning at Bart's rooftop._

_Moran was repeating his words._

_"You and I... we have more in common that you'd like to believe," Sebastian said and smiled at the memory. "I'm not the one who kidnapped Jane. I'm the one who made your cocaine taste better."_

* * *

"Ah, I see you've made yourself comfortable."

Sherlock's eyes widened when he heard _that_ voice.

 _His_ voice.

"I told you," the man said walking towards him, wearing a military uniform. "But did you listen?"

Sherlock looked at the man wearing a military uniform and frowned. His heart was beating fast inside his chest and he felt he had no energy in his arms. He felt mute, as if he couldn't articulate a single word.

"Colonel Sebastian Moran," the man smiled proudly and offered his hand for the detective to shake it. "Ah, it's been ages since I last pulled rank. Nice to finally see you here, Sherlock Holmes. But oh well, we already knew each other, didn't we?" Sebastian straightened his uniform. "Hello to you too, Sophia."

The baby girl giggle and extended her little arms to the man in front of her.

Sherlock couldn't articulate a word.

Moran laughed. "It's so easy to fool the Holmes' brothers, but here we are at last... Are you ready to die?"

Sherlock blinked once, twice. The man in front of him was Sebastian Moran.

He was Sebastian Moran.

This had to be a dream.

It had to be a dream.

"Cat got your tongue?" Sebastian said smugly. "Or is that I sneaked up on you? Oh, I know," The man wearing a military uniform smiled widely and stood erect. "You never saw this coming, didn't you?"

Sherlock placed baby Sophia back to the cot and looked straight into the man's eyes, into those dark blue eyes he had seen so many times before.

"Doctor Matthew Morstan... of course." Sherlock said, trying not to sound too weak.

Sebastian nodded. "As I said, it's so easy to fool the Holmes' brothers... you two think you have power, that you know everything... but tell me, Sherlock," Moran smiled, revealing his perfect teeth. "Did you know it was me? Have you ever entertained the idea that your biggest enemy was in front of you all along?"

Sherlock remained silent.

Doctor Morstan never existed - he was Sebastian Moran, of course.

Everything started to make sense now...

"See? I'm the master of disguise and secrecy. I _own_ secrecy," Moran walked towards the cot and rocked it slightly. "And _I own you._ "

"James Moriarty's right-hand man," Sherlock said, trying to digest the news. "The last man that survived."

Moran nodded and started walking round the cot, his hands clasped together. "You should have jumped off that rooftop, you know. Everything would have been so easy. But you always chose to do things the complicated way... since you were seventeen." Sherlock frowned but remained silent and Sebastian rolled his eyes. "Come on, don't be boring and deduce something. Use hat brains of yours," Moran stopped his pacing and looked at Sherlock. "You'd better do it now because you're going to die, you know."

The detective looked at Sebastian Moran. His brownish uniform was neat and impeccable - not a single stain, not a single wrinkle. There were medals on the right side of his chest and he had his chin up - pride. Sebastian Moran had pride. His dark curls were perfectly combed but differently as Sherlock had seen before. Moran's hair was combed into a military style. And his body language said a lot as well; erected position, chin up, eyes focused on him, hands clasped behind his back, firm steps - He was a Colonel of the Army, he was skilled, Sherlock was sure of it and he was clever.

Sebastian Moran was clever if he managed to fake his own identity for three years.

"You worked for Moriarty."

Moran nodded. "Good, though still not impressive."

"You were the one behind those strange suicides - you developed the pills," Sherlock deduced and felt surprised inwardly. "You were the one that kidnapped Jane when she was expecting Hamish..." the detective felt sick. "You -"

Sebastian shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Got the first, but not -" the man took a deep breath and bit his lip. "I'm disappointed in you - ordinary Sherlock!"

It took Sherlock merely seconds to remember the talk he had with Moriarty that morning at Bart's rooftop.

Moran was repeating his words.

"You and I... we have more in common that you'd like to believe," Sebastian said and smiled at the memory. "I'm not the one who kidnapped Jane. I'm the one who made your cocaine taste better."

Sherlock's eyes widened.

"That's right. The story is long, but I can make it short for you. James needed someone who could insert some poison in pills and I was a paediatrician who was far too good in pharmacology," Moran curled his lips slightly upwards. "And a soldier that had just returned from a long deployment and the army didn't pay much. My second child was coming and I needed money, you see."

"So that's how you started?" Sherlock asked. "developing those pills for the cabbie to use?"

Sebastian nodded. "I heard you almost swallowed one. Which was it? The good or the bad one?"

"Not relevant."

"Ha-ha," Sebastian laughed. "To go on with the story... James later needed someone who could make cocaine taste better and there I was... making your snow* good enough for you. Tell me, was it good? James said it was and I do believe he was right," he smiled. "You almost killed Jane and Hamish."

"But," Sherlock frowned. "James had an assistant -"

"Sebby?" Moran asked with distaste. "James got rid of him."

"And you became his right-hand man."

Moran laughed. "Whoa, not too fast, Sherlock. Aren't you missing something?"

Sherlock said nothing.

He knew he was missing something important. Everything made sense but how?

"You stopped working for him when you became Colonel, you knew it was dangerous for you if anyone knew about your connection to a criminal as Moriarty but then your wife and children died," Sherlock deduced. "It wasn't an accident - they were killed."

Sebastian faked a smile, though inwardly he knew everything Sherlock had said was the truth. He and James finished their connection in a very amicable way and he had been very grateful to James for the money. Moran always knew the things he did for Moriarty were bad and that he was probably hurting innocent people but he was desperate. Sebastian wanted the best for Anna and their children and the money from the army and his job as a doctor wasn't enough.

"I was in the Army... it doesn't matter how ambitious we are, we always want to be in the right side, be the good guys," Sebastian licked his lips. "I'll leave the rest to you."

"You went back to Moriarty when your family were killed - you were desperate. You said yourself, you're in the Army. You were ambitious, you worked hard and you got the promotions you wanted," Sherlock spat. "But you couldn't stand the killer of your family was free and not in jail."

Moran nodded. "Good. Top marks," the man resumed his walking around the cot. "I knew it wasn't a car accident."

"A careless driver hit the car."

"And he was free on the streets. I went to James and he got him killed for me," Moran said softly. "And I had to do something in return."

Now Sherlock was clueless.

"I'll give you a clue: I was there, you know, when you and James were at that rooftop. My special _eye_ was close."

Sherlock gasped when realisation hit him like a brick. "You were the trained sniper."

The detective remembered Moriarty's words.

_"Three bullets, three gunmen, three victims. There's no stopping them now. I'm warning you, one of them is trained. He will pull the trigger and you won't see food going out her stomach... but the brains of your child. They will die unless my people see you jump."_

"I was this close to pull the trigger and kill Locky," Moran said with a macabre smile on his face. "Not for nothing I'm a Colonel of the British Army, dear Sherlock. I've got he best aim of any regiment and I'm a doctor. I knew were to shoot at to kill your child. It was an easy job, you see, but there were plans and I had to change my identity."

Sherlock nodded. "Moriarty knew I was going to beat him so he used the key code to erase your true identity, Sebastian Moran, and created 'Matthew Morstan'."

"Clever, isn't it? That's why your stupid brother never found anything against me. James created Matthew Morstan, left me a considerable amount of money and contacts to go on with the plan and finish the job," Moran bent his head and beamed at the detective. "Neat."

"And by finish the job you mean killing me." Sherlock said.

Moran nodded. "Exactly."

"But there were miscalculations," Sherlock deduced, walking towards the cot and briefly glancing at the baby inside. "My fake death."

"I knew James was going to kill himself, but then I saw that body falling and then you covered with fake blood on the pavement," Moran smiled. "Clever. Got little Molly Hooper and the big brother to help you, huh? Bravo, Sherlock."

The detective narrowed his eyes. "You always knew I was alive."

"Of course."

"You could have killed me. Why didn't you?"

Moran laughed. "Because I wanted you to get rid of James' spider-web. They were all noisy and ambitious and I was the one in charge."

"So you let me go and destroy your allies so you had Jane?"

"Yes," Sebastian took Sophie in his arms and smiled at her. "And a couple of weeks later I got reports you started killing one by one all round Europe. Even my men got you and left pretty little scars. You ought to know that everything - _everything_ , Sherlock, was part of a scheme. Nothing I did was improvised. The plan was to make Jane fall for me, marry me, make her have my child and then you would appear, she would hate you, I would see you suffering and finally you'll die... "

Sherlock frowned. Of course everything had been part of a plan. Why had he been so blind?

"Even Sophia..." Sebastian put her back to her cot. "Well, she was improvised. Jane wouldn't get pregnant and well... Sophia appeared and she only made things easier for me," Moran bit his lip and smiled even widely. "One more thing: have you ever wondered how Hamish survived a cardiac arrest?"

Oh God.

"You -"

"Exactly," Moran beamed. "That's all it takes: a couple of willing participants. Some teachers are desperate for money and they had no problems in putting some drugs in his food."

"You almost killed him!" Sherlock said angrily.

Sherlock got most of the things connected, but not this. Hamish's cardiac arrest had been something natural, something Sherlock believed was to happen due to Hamish's weak heart. But not because Sebastian Moran had induced it.

" _Almost_ ," Moran repeated. "But he got better and that only helped me to get close to Jane."

"And then you started your own play by becoming her friend."

Sebastian nodded. "It didn't take me much until she fell for me. But it took me a while to bed her..." the Colonel smiled widely. "The first time she screamed like a virgin."

It hurt Sherlock. Even after so long it was still hurting him to know Jane had been with Matthew - no, with Sebastian Moran. But she always thought he was dead. He couldn't blame her. Jane needed to get over him and start a new life.

But Sebastian Moran... everything had been a trap.

"But you made a mistake," Sherlock said confidently.

Moran frowned. "Oh?"

"You love her."

Neither of them said a word for a moment. Sherlock knew he had just touched a nerve. He knew Sebastian Moran loved Jane and that was his biggest mistake. The thing is that even Sebastian knew it.

Sebastian loved Jane.

"I do," Sebastian admitted. "I saw her once when she was little, expecting Hamish... she was beautiful," Moran said at the memory of seeing a merely seventeen year old girl with a prominent belly alone, walking along the streets of busy London. "And then years later we met."

"Your plan was not to marry her," Sherlock corrected Sebastian. "Your plan was to kill her."

Sherlock watched Sebastian lick his lips and move nervously to the other side of the cot.

Yes, that was his original plan.

Sebastian Moran's main mission was to kill Jane and their children, and Sherlock of course.

But he didn't.

"Your original plan was to kill Jane and my children and then at me," Sherlock said firmly, secure of his own words. "But you fell in love."

"And the big brother tried everything to keep us apart. Mycroft... Mycroft's got more brains than you, but he's slow. He despises legwork," Moran said. "That's why he never found out about my true identity. Actually, no one knows a thing about me," Sebastian smiled. "I've got everyone wrapped around my finger: Jane, your boys, Greg, even your parents and an entire society out there."

Sherlock frowned. "Not any more. Jane knows you've lied to her."

"Do you think I care?" Matthew asked dismissively. "I don't give a fuck."

"Don't you?"

Sebastian shrugged. "No. Because you're going to die and she will return to me. Remember we've got this," Moran said, his eyes focused on the baby inside the cot. "I've got contacts everywhere and by just raising a finger Sophie can be mine and Jane will beg for her."

"This is madness."

"Is it?" Matthew asked angrily. "Is it? Oh, this might be madness but I bet you rather enjoyed this game, didn't you?"

Sherlock realised what Moran was talking about. "You planted the bodies..."

"And you liked it, didn't you? Did you get the message?"

"The woman and the children... Jane and - "

Moran laughed and pulled out a gun. "And the kidnapping? Neat, brilliant, clever wasn't it? And you even thought we were looking for her _together_."

"You're insane."

Sebastian smiled. "Are you just getting that now? And what about me getting shot? Does that make me _that_ much insane?"

Sherlock walked towards the cot and took Sophia in his arms. "You're not killing her."

"What makes you think I won't?"

The detective said nothing.

But the look in Sebastian eyes was frightening. His dark blue eyes were on him and on the baby his arms.

And Sherlock knew he was going to kill them both.

"I tried to be good to you, Sherlock. I gave you a glimpse of what I can do. I killed those women that only hurt _my_ Jane... then I had to kill your landlady, I liked her, but oh well..." Sebastian smiled. "I had to kill her... All of it to make you understand who you were dealing with but you continued annoying me... you continued fucking with me, with _my_ Jane and _my_ children -"

"They are _not_ your children."

"I raised them, Sherlock," Moran said. "I helped Locky to walk his first steps, to say his first word, I fixed Hamish... they are _mine_ now!" And with that Sebastian Moran pulled a gun.

Sherlock watched the Colonel scanning his own gun. "This is how your game ends? With me and your own daughter dead? What are you going to say? What's your alibi, Colonel Moran?"

Moran smiled. "I don't need it. I've told you, Sherlock. I've got my own contacts everywhere. And Sophia... I can get another baby. Jane won't miss her much. And the boys..." the Colonel smiled darkly. "As Jane will come back to me, I'll raise them. I'll adopt them and I'll become their father. You're going to die tonight knowing not only your wife but your children will be mine."

* * *

"Mycroft, please!"

The politician ordered his assistant to take the boys to a room and shook his head nervously. "I'm not -"

"Sherlock is in danger!" Jane hissed. "Please, tell me where he is!"

Mycroft knew he had no choice. And he also knew his brother was in danger.

"Battersea Power Station."

* * *

"Jane doesn't love you," Sherlock said firmly. "You keep holding yourself to something -"

Moran laughed darkly. "I don't care whether she loves me or not."

"Yes you do. You care because you love her."

"God I love her," Sebastian admitted. "And she loves a fucking shit like you," The Colonel aimed his gun to Sherlock's heart, to where Sophie's head was resting on. "And I... I would never hurt her and she loves you! You are nothing but shit and _she loves you!_ "

Sherlock looked down. Baby Sophie started crying.

They had no time.

"Stop this!"

"I won't! I've come too far to stop now and you're going to pay for everything, I told you remember? I told you I was going to make you beg for your life and that you were going to pay for everything... for killing James and for fucking mess with my family!"

"Don't kill her!"

Sophie wouldn't stop crying.

"I was not going to kill you," Moran said, aiming his gun. "I wanted to torture you, make you blind, deaf, mute, break your legs so you'd never see, hear, speak and walk. I wanted to turn you into a dead man... but I don't care any more."

And Sherlock met those blue eyes.

* * *

Jane pulled her dad's gun out her pocket and glanced at it. Long time ago, many years ago actually, her father John Watson taught her how to aim and shoot. He told her he knew it was a thing a lot not good to taught his daughter.

But Mr Watson told Jane she needed to be ready and fight the enemy if it appeared someday.

Jane walked slowly to the place where she spotted them.

Her eyes were filled with tears when she looked at the scene: Sherlock was holding Sophia and Matthew was dressed in a military uniform, aiming a gun and pointing at them.

Jane took a deep breath and aimed when her eyes met Sherlock's.

* * *

Sherlock knew he needed time.

"So what? You're just going to do what Moriarty did?" Sherlock spat. "Please, do you have snipers in case you fail?"

Moran was angry. "Ha-ha," he laughed sarcastically. "We're alone. I don't need anyone to watch my back!"

The detective smiled. "Don't you?"

"You don't get this, do you?"

Sherlock remained silent.

"I did everything for my family and I lost them," Sebastian said, fixing his eyes on his target. "And you are nothing but a junkie and you've got two children and Jane..." The Colonel's index finger was in the trigger. "I must restore some balance to the universe."

Someone pulled the trigger.

And Sherlock and Sophie fell to the floor... there was blood everywhere.

The detective closed his eyes when he heard another shot.

"Jane?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Snow=slang for cocaine.


	40. Finding You Again

_People that are meant to be together always find each other in the end._

_Sometimes life and destiny play a game of cards._

_Sometimes we do not like the results of that game._

_But as I said,_

_People that are meant to be together always find each other in the end._

_And what he had to do was to find her again._

* * *

"So what? You're just going to do what Moriarty did?" Sherlock spat. "Please, do you have snipers in case you fail?"

Moran was angry. "Ha-ha," he laughed sarcastically. "We're alone. I don't need anyone to watch my back!"

The detective smiled. "Don't you?"

"You don't get this, do you?"

Sherlock remained silent.

"I did everything for my family and I lost them," Sebastian said, fixing his eyes on his target. "And you are nothing but a junkie and you've got two children and Jane..." The Colonel's index finger was in the trigger. "I must restore some balance to the universe."

Someone pulled the trigger.

And Sherlock and Sophie fell to the floor... there was blood everywhere.

The detective closed his eyes when he heard another shot.

"Jane?"

Moran turned and looked at Jane's crying face.

She was holding a gun.

"Jane, put that gun down -"

She pulled the trigger and watched the blood coming out from who she believed, was Matthew Morstan. Jane dropped the gun to the floor and gasped. She watched her baby crawling away Sherlock's almost lifeless arms and to the man wearing a military uniform.

"Jane... why me, darling? Why?"

She said nothing. Jane only stared at the blood on his chest and asked herself why she had done it. Why she had to shoot him and kill him. Why he had done so much harm, why Matthew had lied like that and why she had believed every word he said, every lie, every touch, every kiss and every caress. Because suddenly the past two years of her life were nothing but lies.

"I..." Sebastian coughed. "This is how I wanted to die, remember?" Moran smiled bitterly. "I wanted you to be the last thing I see."

"Why you lied?" Jane whispered, taking Sophie in her arms, still holding Sebastian's hand. "Why you did this?"

"I meant it, baby... I always loved you, since the first moment..." He caressed her face and smiled bitterly. "Everything I did was for you and our baby..." Sebastian's eyes fell on the baby Jane was holding. "I'm sorry Jane but I... God, I swear I never lied when I said I loved you and the children... I really loved you, Jane, you know it..."

Jane remained silent but endless tears were rolling down her face. Sebastian's grip on Jane's hand was tight when Jane bent down and pressed a last kiss to his cheek.

And she watched him taking his last breath.

* * *

 

Jane stared at the headstone in front of her and let out a silent sigh. She bent down and pressed a hand to the headstone as a last touch, maybe as a last good bye because she didn't know if she was going to be able to come back. The man buried six feet under had made her life better at the beginning, loving her and her children, giving her a new reason to live for when she believed Sherlock died and he also gave her Sophia. Sebastian Moran gave her a child that died inside her. Jane remembered every single moment she had lived with that man and cried.

Even though Matthew Morstan was a name that had never existed, Jane couldn't help but cry.

She was the only one present when he was buried.

"Mycroft said you insisted on burying him."

Jane didn't need to turn to know Sherlock was standing next to her. After the incident in which Sherlock almost died they didn't talk much because the detective knew Jane needed time. After all, she had just killed the man who was the father of the baby that died inside her and he was also the father of the baby she was raising and going to adopt soon.

"He said he had thrown his family ashes to the sea," Jane said, her eyes moving to the other three graves next to Sebastian's. "I knew that wasn't true."

Jane asked Mycroft to let her bury Sebastian's body on a cemetery with his family. Matthew -no, Sebastian. Sebastian had always said that he had eventually thrown his family ashes to the sea, but Jane admitted she always knew it was a lie. And after looking, and with Mycroft's help, Jane found the three graves: Anna, Josephine and Oliver Moran.

Sherlock watched the flowers on the graves. He knew Jane had just left them there. The detective could understand that Jane was still hurt. The man she had been with for more than two years turned out to be a Colonel of the British Army who preferred to work for Moriarty and who had lied to her since the very beginning. Moran was the father of the baby Jane lost.

And even when it hurt, Sherlock knew he had to accept that.

But Moran had also done too much damage to be completely forgiven.

"He killed your mother, your sister and Mrs Hudson."

Jane nodded and looked down to the ground, almost as if she was taking the blame for those three murders. "I know," she whispered. "I know he planned to kill me and my children. But I know he never lied when he said he loved me and them too."

Sherlock winced when he felt the pain on his shoulder. Moran failed and shot him on his right shoulder.

But the detective doubted Moran had failed.

As if he knew he was going to die in Jane's hands.

"What have you told them?" Sherlock asked, with real interest.

Jane faked a smile. "I told them he was ill. They already knew about the brain tumour..."

"You should have told them the truth."

"They loved him, Sherlock."

"Did you?"

Jane looked at him for the first time and took his hand. Sherlock realised Jane's hand was cold, very cold, as the hands of a corpse whilst his was warm. The detective looked into her eyes and waited for her answer.

Fearfully.

"I never loved him as much as he loved me," Jane admitted. "Even when I know he got close to me and my children to kill us... he was a good friend. He was sweet and nice," Jane smiled a bit at the memory. "He was funny too. I know he was sincere when he cried in my arms every time he missed his wife and his children... I think I loved him as a friend, not as a husband."

God.

Jane bit her lip and then placed a hand on her stomach. "I know he did terrible things and I can't justify him. I just can't," her grip on Sherlock's hand tightened. "but he was the father of my baby and I guess I'll never forget him."

Sherlock knew it. Moran had conceived a child with Jane and even thought he had killed her mother and her sister, Jane couldn't hate him. Colonel Moran was not a bad person because he chose to but because he had his reasons: he was Moriarty's pharmacologist because he needed the money for his family, his second child was coming and he was desperate. And then he was the trained sniper on Jane because Jim got rid of the man who had killed his family.

The detective knew Sebastian Moran had fallen in love with Jane since the very beginning and that was the main reason why he did a different call and decided to marry her and become the father of her children instead of killing them.

"Come back to me," Sherlock whispered. "Please, Jane."

Jane kissed him, but stepped back. "I need time."

"Why? He's dead," Sherlock took a step forwards, closing the space between them. "I love you."

"You don't understand, Sherlock. We lived together for almost three years. We were expecting a baby and then we got Sophie..." Jane blinked and more tears fell. "We were building a life - a family together and even when I know he lied... " Jane pressed a last kiss to Sherlock's cheek. "I love you, but I need time."

* * *

 

Jane opened the door of the house and pressed a shy kiss to his cheek. "Hello."

Sherlock smiled at her. "Hello."

She bit her lip and smiled nervously. "You look good."

Sherlock was wearing a dark suit, tailored, expensive. His dark curls were perfectly combed and he was holding a bottle of a very fine wine he had got for the dinner. He looked at her and blushed just a bit. "You look beautiful."

Jane was wearing a denim skirt long till her knees, a white shirt and flat shoes. Her hair, which was long now, was combed into a a side braid. She looked a lot like the little girl he met years ago.

She blushed even more. "Thank you. Come in," she said, letting him step into her house. "Dinner should be ready soon."

"I brought this," Sherlock said, giving Jane the bottle of wine.

"You didn't need to."

Sherlock smiled. "The kids?"

"Upstairs in their room," Jane met Sophie sitting on the playpen, playing with some toys and when the baby met Sherlock's figure, she extended her little arms and started mumbling. "Oh, I think someone's excited to see you."

The detective took the baby in his arms and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Hello, Princess."

"Da da da da!"

Jane giggled. "She wants to talk!"

Soon the boys run the stairs down to see their father. Hamish and Locky jumped over Sherlock and hugged him tightly.

"Hello, Dad!"

"'lo Dad!"

After the incident Jane moved out Sebastian's house to her old house, to the house her mother had left. Jane continued working at Bart's as a way to try and forget all the things she had to go through and to earn enough money to support her children, even though Sherlock assured her she could go back to Baker Street with him and that she needed to work. But Jane was so stubborn that she was working eight to twelve hours shifts every day.

As Jane was working most of the day Sherlock picked Hamish from school, Locky from nursery and Sophie from daycare and then he would take the three back home with their mother. Now Sherlock got to see his children every day and during the weekends, when he took Hamish and Locky to Baker Street. There were a few weekends when Sherlock saw Jane was too tired or sometimes sad, when he saw she was far too weak he took Sophie with him. At first Jane was unsure. She didn't know if Sophie would get used to the place or to Sherlock but baby Sophie really liked the detective so one Friday Sherlock took not only his children but Sophie with him to the flat.

The only problem Sherlock had was changing nappies. It was something he never got to do with neither of his children so it was a new experience, but he managed well. Sophie barely cried unless she needed a change or when she was hungry.

And Sophie really liked Sherlock.

"Dinner will be ready soon," Jane said. "Can you, um, hold her for a bit? I need to check on the food."

Sherlock nodded and held Sophia in his arms. He sat on an armchair and placed the baby on his lap and smiled at her. "Hungry, aren't we?"

Sophia giggled.

"Dad?"

"Yes, Hamish?"

"Are you going to be Sophie's dad now?"

The detective didn't know what to say. "I don't know."

"Because Matt was her daddy but he died," Hamish said. "Nicki said her daddy died when she was a baby and now her mummy's new husband is her daddy."

"Do you think Sophie wants me to be her father?"

Hamish nodded. "Yes! So now you will be mine and Locky's daddy and hers too!"

Dinner went fine. The boys ate their food, Sophie was eating solids as well but she obviously needed help. Jane and Sherlock talked about the summer holidays that were coming soon and how they would manage with the kids, Jane and Sherlock's jobs and so on. Sherlock was working with Lestrade and he had quite a number of cases from his website too. The detective was quite required but Sherlock decide to work only on the interesting cases so he had enough time to spend with his children during the week and the weekends as well.

"Time to go to bed," Jane said after they had eaten their dinner. "Come on, boys. Go and brush your teeth."

Sherlock put the boys to bed and read them a story about a dog who lost his family and by just using his memories got to find his owner while in the other room Jane was putting Sophie to sleep in a cot in her old room.

The detective was standing next to her when Jane covered Sophie with a pink duvet.

"Remember when we painted the ceiling and glued those stars?" Jane asked, looking up to the ceiling whilst sitting on the edge of what used to be her bed when she was a child.

Sherlock sat next to her. "They are still shinning."

Jane rested a hand over Sherlock's and laced their fingers. Both lay down together on their sides, facing each other, not saying a word until Jane moved further and rested her head on his chest, just like their used to do when they were teenagers and friends and later husband and wife and in love. Sherlock didn't even hesitated. He kissed her lips and cupped her cheek with one hand.

In that same bed Jane let Sherlock sleep next to her when they were friends and when she invited Sherlock to stay over every time her mother was not at home and it was dark and she was afraid. In that same bed Jane cried in Sherlock's arms when she told him she might be pregnant and that she didn't know what to do. And in that same bed Jane had cried in Sherlock's arms again when her father died and she decided to name their first baby 'Hamish'.

"I love you."

She smiled sincerely. "I love you."

And now in that same bed they were loving each other again.

The kiss became deeper, passionate, so full of love and now Sherlock found himself shirtless. Jane straddled his hips and unbuttoned her shirt very slowly. The detective moved his hands from her bare thighs to her hips and then to her bare belly, her chest and her shoulders.

"I need you," Jane whispered to his ear as she sucked his earlobe.

They undressed each other very slowly, pressing kisses to every bit of skin close to their lips. They pleased themselves with their mouths, their tongues and their hands.

"Jane..." Sherlock panted as he sunk into her. "I love you."

He was over her between her bare thighs and sinking into her as deep as he could and moving into her very slowly, feeling her tight and warm walls around him.

Jane took his hand and both laced their fingers. "Ah Sher - I love you."

For a long moment they said nothing. Sherlock continued moving in and out slow, sometimes fast, soft, sometimes hard, but always hitting her sweet spot and sending shivers to her spine, making Jane pant and moan his name with every thrust.

And both wanted it to last forever.

When they changed the position and Jane was straddling his hips, Sherlock bit his lip when he watched her naked body over his, her full breasts bouncing up and down, sharing the same rhythm of his thrust and Jane's hips movements. Jane took his hands and moved them to her breasts and then to her hips. Sherlock teased her nipples with his fingers and finally buried his nails into her hipbones.

"Sherlock... Ah yes!"

Sherlock closed his eyes every time he felt deep into Jane.

"I love you," Sherlock repeated. "I love you, Jane. Please don't go."

Both were so close. Sherlock made Jane roll in the bed until he was over her again. Both were kissing when they were just on the edge when Jane looked into Sherlock's eyes and smiled at him lovingly, tenderly. "I love you, Sherlock."

Jane was lying in Sherlock's arms when he pressed a kiss to her forehead and held her left hand. He slowly put her on her wedding ring and handed his to her.

She put him on his wedding ring and they laced their hands together.

As Sebastian never got to take the divorce papers to court, Jane and Sherlock were still married.

"I want to spend the rest of my life with you," Jane whispered, kissing Sherlock's lips and smiling at him.

Sherlock kissed her back. "You can't imagine for how long I wanted to hear those words."

"I love you, Sherlock."

* * *

 

_**Three years later...** _

Sherlock opened his eyes and felt Jane stirring next to him. Their room was dark, warm and silent - but there was a sound breaking that silence. An audible sound that every father would recognise as their children crying.

"It's OK," Sherlock whispered to Jane's ear. "I'll go."

The detective found his slippers, his dressing gown and walked to the kitchen and then upstairs to the room where he knew the sound was coming from. He opened the door of the room and found a crying child on the bed. He turned on the lights and glanced at the place: toys, dolls, a princess costume and crayons were all over the floor and Sherlock knew he will have to help tidying in the morning.

Sherlock sat on the bed and picked up the crying child in his arms.

"Daddy!"

"What's wrong, Princess?"

Sophia rested her head on her daddy's chest. "Can't sleep."

Sherlock smiled at the little girl wearing a pink pair of pyjama trousers and a matching tee with little red hearts printed all over it. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and caressed her brown wavy hear very softly. Sophie stopped crying and buried her face on her daddy's chest. It was something that always made her feel better, sitting on her dad's lap and resting her head on his chest, feeling his calm heart beats made her feel safe.

Sophia always felt safe in Sherlock's arms.

"Better?" Sherlock asked softly.

"Yes."

"Why were you crying?" Sherlock asked and stood up, with Sophie in his arms. "Monster again?"

The little girl nodded. "Yes!"

"Do you want me to check?"

"Want to sleep with you and Mummy!"

Sherlock shook his head. "You're a big girl now. Big girls sleep in their beds."

"But... I don't want the monster to hurt me..."

The detective sat Sophie on her bed and looked down her bed and inside her wardrobe. "No monster tonight."

"But I can't sleep, Daddy!"

Sherlock held her in his arms again and walked with her down to the kitchen, where he prepared some hot milk and helped Sophie to drink it slowly. "Do you want a story?"

She nodded. "The one 'bout the hound."

The detective smiled. "'The Hounds of Baskerville'? I've already told you that one."

"But it's my favourite, Daddy."

"OK," The detective pressed a kiss to her cheek. "A couple of months ago a man came here asking me to help him to catch a big dog," Sherlock said softly, walking very slowly around the living room. "The man had nightmares because he thought the dog was coming for him." He looked at his daughter closing her eyes and falling asleep in his arms. "But the dog..."

Sherlock went back to Sophie's room and put the little girl to bed. She stirred a bit and opened her eyes to see her daddy tucking her in bed. "Night, Daddy. I love you."

"Good night, Princess," the detective kissed her forehead and smiled. "I love you too."

Before leaving his daughter's room, Sherlock looked down her bed and inside her wardrobe, making himself sure there were no monsters scaring his little daughter that night and left. Then, Sherlock walked to the next room and opened the door only to see his other two children peacefully sleeping in their beds. The detective walked towards Hamish's bed and pressed a kiss to his forehead, caressed his cheek and smiled. His eldest child was a boy of nine years old now who was far too good in Maths and liked to play football with his friends. Hamish was very healthy now, so healthy indeed that now it was impossible to believe he had a weak heart as child.

Sherlock kissed his other son too. Locky was six years old now and he was the best student of his class, being able to read since he was four. The detective couldn't help but smile to the boy who had his same grey eyes and his same dark curls. Everyone said Locky looked a lot like him, but truth to be told, Locky only looked physically like him but he was like Jane, Locky had her heart. He was sweet, tender, a very living child who liked to climb the trees of his grandparent's garden and play jokes to his uncle Mycroft.

When Sherlock returned to bed, his wife was still sleeping. He lay next to her and before closing his eyes he moved a hand to her baby bump and felt _them_ moving inside her.

"Sherlock...," Jane opened her eyes and gasped when she felt the twins moving inside her. "What happened?"

"Sophie couldn't sleep," he pressed a soft kiss to her neck. "How are you feeling?"

Jane took Sherlock's hand and moved it to the middle of her belly. "They are moving again."

Sherlock helped Jane to turn on the bed so she would lie on her other side, facing him.

"Thanks."

The detective rubbed her baby bump softly, lovingly, still not believing they were going to be parents again soon. "Better?"

"Hmm," Jane kissed Sherlock and smiled at him. "They aren't kicking."

Jane told him the news for his birthday. His children gave him lots of presents and when it was Jane's turn, she gave him a small box. Sherlock couldn't deduce what was inside, so when the detective opened the box and found two pairs of little shoes and a scan showing two babies, Sherlock couldn't believe it.

They never tried for more babies as they were busy with their jobs, raising three children and Jane couldn't conceive again. It was a surprise, a very good surprise and a miracle since after losing the child she had conceived with Sebastian Moran, Jane was told she would never get pregnant again.

Now that they were less than a month from becoming parents again, of twins, and that they already got the pushchairs, lots and lots of baby clothes, enough nappies and a room prepared for the babies, both Jane and Sherlock were calm, peacefully and eagerly waiting for their new babies to come to the world and make their family bigger.

"One more month."

"One more month," Jane repeated. "And they will be here." She giggled and closed her eyes tiredly. "We'll have _five_ children, Sherlock. Have you ever imagined having _five children_?"

Sherlock shook his head and caressed his baby bump, still feeling the twins moving inside. "No. But I imagined being married to you."

"I love you, Sherlock," Jane said lovingly. "I love you so much."

The detective felt one of the twins kicking and smiled. "I love you too, with all my heart."

_**To be continued...** _


End file.
